


Spark and Burn

by Tahlruil



Series: Winding Roads to Flowering Fields [8]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Awkward Kira Yukimura, BAMF Peter Hale, BAMF Stiles, Canon-Typical Violence, Fae & Fairies, How Do I Tag, Ignores Canon After Season Three, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Multiple, Pack Feels, Post-Nogitsune, Pre-Slash Peter/Stiles, Scott is a Bad Friend, Scott is a Failwolf, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Some Fluff, Some Humor, Some Plot, Some angst, Tags May Change, bamf everyone basically
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-05-16 18:59:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 46,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14817044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tahlruil/pseuds/Tahlruil
Summary: "...For him pack was seeing the light come back to Stiles' eyes while Peter watched over him protectively. It was coffee in the morning with Peter and Chris, watching the two of them fight like cats and dogs; it was knowing that they would protect each other despite that if need be. Pack was a casual, easy hand on his shoulder or the back of his neck and being able to give the same just as easily. It was arguing over how often Peter slipped him foods Stiles had forbidden, waking up to find Chris had done his laundry so he wouldn't have to wear a dirty uniform to work, and it was Stiles doing ridiculous amounts of research on safe sex to encourage him to start a relationship. ..."With Scott and his pack unable (or unwilling) to properly look after the territory once protected by the Hales, Beacon Hills is growing even more dangerous. They may not have an Alpha, but there's no denying that a pack is still forming around the Stilinskis - especially Stiles. When push comes to shove, they'll do what they need to protect each other and their territory. All they need is a Spark, and then everything will change.





	1. A Patrol Gone Wrong

**Author's Note:**

> Hnnng. Here it is - the start of the multi-chapter fic! :D Thanks so, so, so much to aylathebunny for being my beta and cheerleader. <3 There has been much plot development and many new, fun ideas as a direct result of her doing so. <3
> 
> So tags will be updated as I go, relationships and plot will (hopefully) develop, and Beacon Hills will never be the same once this is done. Gosh darnit.
> 
> Thanks for reading and maybe comment? :'D

John had never much liked the Preserve. Oh, he'd gone there with Claudia when they were younger, had taken her and Stiles there for picnics, and he even admired the beauty of the place. But something about it always left him... unsettled. The creaking of branches in the wind was too much like whispering, while the rustling leaves too often mocked the world with barely-there laughter. While the streams winding through the wood were pretty, it was too easy to imagine strange things lurking in the water, things with hungry eyes and quick fingers, things that would be all too happy to grab hold of the unsuspecting and drown them. The press of unseen eyes laid heavy on his soul whenever he crossed the border, and something in his heart always shivered as he left the more civilized world of Beacon County behind.

Good Lord, he was a fool for not immediately believing his son when Stiles tried to tell him about the supernatural.

Now that he believed in all the things that went 'bump' in the night, John hated the place even more. It took everything in him not to declare the Preserve completely off-limits. Surely the Sheriff could find a good excuse... but it wouldn't hold water for long. People would go poking and prying which would quickly unravel any tale he told. Worse, the lure of the forbidden would draw even more people into the dark of the wild wood. More people would delve into the world where his badge meant nothing, where he couldn't truly protect them. More families would be left desperate for answers he couldn't - wouldn't - give them. Disappearances and deaths would rise, and John would have nothing to offer but empty words.

Any call to the Preserve was always going to be a bad one. John only hoped this latest breach of the trees wouldn't end with someone new vanished into thin air. Fuck, if they didn't stop soon the FBI was going to get involved. John didn't see that ending well for anyone.

The old Hale House had seen more tragedy than any home should. At least it was easy to find - sometimes it felt like everyone in the whole damn town knew just where it was. Calls to the Preserve almost always came with directions using the place as a landmark. Whatever Stiles and the others believed about some magical tree, the Hale House felt more like a beacon for anything and everyone with ill intent. No wonder Derek and Cora kept running as far away from it as they could, and he didn't blame Peter for never stopping by to remember those who had passed on there. John didn't like going himself, but the young woman who had called the Sheriff's Department had said that she was waiting there in that clearing.

Even if he hated it, John tried to go on every call to the Preserve - alone, if he could manage it. It was easier to cover up any supernatural happenings that way, and if he was there from the start the kids couldn't keep him out of the loop. When the ruins of the Hale House came into view, he took one of the deep breaths Stiles' old therapist had recommended. He was supposed to do a whole set, but he didn't want to be relaxed, not here. It was better to hold his shoulders strong and straight, and carrying a ball of tension in his chest might save his life. A single deep breath was enough to clear his head, which was all he was after.

Or it was, until he got closer to the porch. Hunched over on the stairs, left arm cradled against her chest, was the young woman who had called for help. Her hair was in disarray, full of leaves and other forest debris. Some of it was matted - in the dim light it was hard to tell if it was with blood or mud. The way it fell obscured her face, but he could tell that she was young. Too young to be out alone in the woods this late at night. In the circumstances, however, maybe it would be better if she had been alone right from the start. That would eliminate the possibility of a new missing person.

Soft gasps sounded in the air, and her shoulders trembled with each one. She sounded like Stiles when he was trying to hold back tears, when he was trying to hide just how hurt he was. The poor girl was trying to keep it together, but all the little things added up pointed to true distress. This wasn't some drunk teenager who needed a ride back into town or a prank gone wrong. Something had happened that had left her curling into herself to protect her arm, and that probably was blood in her hair.

She didn't need any surprises even if he meant her no harm. If she was in shock she might not have registered the sound of his car pulling up; John did his best to make sure his footsteps made a sound. The way she flinched a little at first made him slow down. There was no need to scare her, so he stopped a few feet away. Once he got her attention and saw the damage he could decide whether or not to radio in for an ambulance.

"Hey there. Easy, easy." The way she had almost thrown herself backwards at his voice wasn't a good sign. She still wasn't looking at him either. Shock was looking more and more likely. "I'm not here to hurt you. You called for help, remember?" The last thing he wanted was to look threatening; when he crouched down he was lower than she was. Not looming might help her feel safer, and her breathing did seem to calm down a little. "So that's what I'm here for - to help you. I'm from the sheriff's department. I'm the sheriff actually, so you--"

"M-mr. Stilinski?" The girl lifted her head and Kira Yukimura stared at him with wide, tear-filled eyes. His sharp inhale was gunshot-loud in the suddenly silent clearing, and his heart skipped a beat before it began to pound in his ears. Kira - sweet, energetic Kira - looked even younger than usual with a face streaked with tears, blood and dirt. He stood and went to her side as fast as his feet would take him there. She sniffled, then clapped her right hand over her mouth like she could physically stop herself from sobbing. Her left arm she kept as still as she could, which was concerning.

It took second place, however, to the gash still sluggishly bleeding on her forehead. It ran from her left temple and over her left eye in a diagonal slash, one that looked like it was slowly healing right before his eyes. Not as fast as it should be based off the way Scott healed, but it was something. John put careful fingers under her chin to get a better angle, but it was no use. It was too damn dark, leaving him guessing about how bad it actually was. The wound could probably do with some cleaning, super-healing or not, and he needed to get a look her arm too.

"You look like hell, kiddo." A more pronounced tremble had her fingers knocking against her upper lip, so he took hold of them as gently as he could and gave them a soft squeeze. Kira immediately squeezed back, only she did it so hard that his fingers went a little numb. Kitsune strength was no joke, but he was careful to hide his wince. A little loss of blood circulation was worth it if it helped her feel safe. "I've got you now, okay? I don't know what happened, but I'm here now. You're safe and we'll get you taken care of. Is the arm broken?"

"It... it was, I think. Maybe not anymore." Kira took her lower lip between her teeth, worrying it for a long moment before sniffling again. "I'm sorry to bother you. I didn't want to bother you. But my arm hurts and for a while I wasn't walking so good and I think I threw up on the edge of the property but I can't really remember, and my parents are out of town for a conference in New York and it was only supposed to be an Omega, but I think maybe it wasn't and Scott didn't answer his phone and I didn't..."

John let her talk herself out until she needed to stop for air. As a technique it received mixed results, but sometimes it was the only way to get a word in edgewise with Stiles. When she petered out he squeezed her fingers again, drawing her eyes back to his; it took her a second to focus, which meant he should take her to Melissa if not the hospital. "Breathe. We'll unpack everything you just said once we get you out of here. Do you think you can make it to the car?"

"Probably?"

"Good enough for me. Up we go."

Getting Kira to her feet wasn't too hard - she was tiny even though she packed a punch - but keeping her steady was a different story. It was made harder by the way she refused to let go of his hand, but he wasn't about to make that an issue. He'd hold hands with her all the way back to town if he needed to, if it made her feel even a little better. She did end up letting go in order to get into the cruiser, but once he was in the driver's seat and had the car started she grabbed for his hand again.

The lighting in the car wasn't the best, but it threw her condition into sharp relief. Her left arm was still cradled against her torso - she had to twist towards him in order to reach his hand. There were rips in her clothes that had very clearly been made by claws. It was a small mercy that the wounds had been shallow enough to heal quickly. Her head wound worried him, and if she weren't a kitsune he would be speeding toward the hospital with his sirens on.

She probably wouldn't even want to go see Melissa. Fuck.

"I'm fine," she said as if reading his thoughts. Maybe that was a kitsune thing. He'd ask Peter later. "I mean, everything still hurts and feeling the bone in my arm set itself like this is really gross but it probably won't last much longer, and my head only hurts... well, still a lot. Like an eight or nine on a pain scale probably? But it's fine. I can mostly walk and stuff, and it's healing. So you can just take me home and I'll go to bed--"

"You said your parents are out of town."

"Yeah? Only until Sunday though."

"That's four more days, Kira, and you've got a head wound. I'm not just dropping you off at your house and driving away." The hand in his spasmed, then held on even tighter. He clenched his jaw and battled back the fury he felt building inside of him. These kids... every one of them was ass-deep in the supernatural, and they expected all the adults in their lives to just _walk away_. They constantly threw themselves into danger, fought and killed and _died_ , and they did it on their own. They did it in silence whenever they could manage it because they thought they had to. It was like pulling teeth to get them to ask an adult for help, even those adults who were in the know. They gave their blood and their innocence to keep themselves and other people safe, and they didn't think anyone would help them.

So far he hadn't been good at proving them wrong. That stopped now.

"Answer me straight kiddo - do you need to go to the hospital?"

"No? I'm not trying to lie," she added quickly. "It's just that I'm healing and I probably shouldn't let anyone see that but hospitals also have the good drugs. That would be nice because everything hurts and I don’t much like pain, but it is starting to go away. Slowly. Real slow. So maybe I'd like some pain meds but I don't need to go."

John smothered a laugh, his anger fading away in the face of Kira's rambling. "We'll mark it as a 'no' then. How about Melissa? She doesn't have any of the good drugs, but she could make sure your arm is setting the right way and clean out that gash."

"I have stuff to clean it out at home, and I'm pretty sure it's setting right."

"... I'd feel better if we saw Melissa."

"No! I'm fine, really, and she's with Scott and maybe Scott's dad? Because Scott wasn't sure if his dad was coming or not, but they're doing something that I'm not really clear on, which is why he didn't come on patrol with me and since he didn't answer his phone he's probably still doing the family thing which Melissa is a part of."

"And you don't want to see him?"

"I don't want him to feel guilty."

John twisted his mouth to keep his opinion on that from spilling out. It wasn't worth the fight to get her to agree, not with her still clinging to him. Not when they had everything they would need to clean her up at his house. Hell, Stiles would probably be able to go online and make sure her arm was setting right, and Peter would probably take her pain. So even if having Melissa take a look would soothe his nerves, maybe it really wasn't what she needed just then.

"I'm gonna call this in, tell dispatch it was a false alarm - probably just some drunk kid making prank calls. Nobody'll look into that too closely. Then I'm taking you home - mine, I mean - so you can get patched up and tell Stiles and Peter what happened. Tomorrow I'll take you to your home." Her hand went slack, and from the corner of his eye he saw her chewing on her lower lip again. "You're gonna pack up what you need and then you're going to come stay with us until your parents get back. Sound good?"

She was staring at him, and when he glanced her way her mouth was hanging open just a little. "You... you'd let me do that? Stay with you I mean? Because I'd be fine, I mean I'm old enough to stay by myself for a couple days and I know that your house is pretty crowded with Chris living there and Peter living there too even if he doesn't know it. So I'd be fine."

"We'll figure something out. We can get Peter to buy a bed for the living room if we need to. I wouldn't mind bunking down there for a few days and neither would Chris." Or Chris could just stay in his room... but maybe it was too soon for that. "So if you want to stay with us--"

"Yes! Please. If you really don't mind."

"I really don't."

"And if no one else will mind."

"They won't."

"Really? I don't want to be a burden or impose."

John wasn't sure how Scott and the rest defined pack, only knew they didn't give the word or the bonds the same weight that Peter, Stiles and Chris did. He didn't know if Kira even needed or wanted a pack, because he didn't know shit about how a kitsune was different from a werewolf. What he did know was that being part of one had changed everything for him, and changed it for the better. For him pack was seeing the light come back to Stiles' eyes while Peter watched over him protectively. It was coffee in the morning with Peter and Chris, watching the two of them fight like cats and dogs; it was knowing that they would protect each other despite that if need be. Pack was a casual, easy hand on his shoulder or the back of his neck and being able to give the same just as easily. It was arguing over how often Peter slipped him foods Stiles had forbidden, waking up to find Chris had done his laundry so he wouldn't have to wear a dirty uniform to work, and it was Stiles doing ridiculous amounts of research on safe sex to encourage him to start a relationship. He was only human so he couldn't feel the bond Peter talked about, but that didn't matter. John would still give everything to keep his people safe, and he knew without question that they would do the same for him.

The scared, wounded teenager next to him could use a pack that meant what Peter and Stiles had taught him it did. And what the hell, they didn't have an Alpha he needed to talk to first before he gave it to her.

"You're not a burden. You're pack."

~.~.~

"Kira? We're here."

"Mmm?" The weight of sleep was hard to throw off, especially with the way her head ached and her pulse pounded painfully in her left arm. Sleep was way better than either of those things. If she just ignored whoever was gently trying to nudge her into awareness he would have to quit at some point.

"Come on kiddo - don't make me regret not taking you to Melissa. I need you to wake up and stay that way for a little while."

"Mr. Stilinski?" They were in a car, but the 'why' of it escaped her. Thinking didn't work so good when there was something gnawing on her brain. Every thud of her heart caused another round of knives and teeth digging through her skull. If Mr. Stilinski thought she was opening her eyes on top of that he was very, very mistaken. All she wanted was to sleep for a year or at least long enough for all the pain to go away.

And maybe until the feeling came back to the fingers on her right hand too. It was hard to tell where exactly they were, and it wasn't until an attempt to move them that she discovered she was clutching somebody else's hand.

"Kira." Mr. Stilinski's voice had gone stern, and it was reflex to open her eyes. It took a second for his face to come in to focus, which was kind of a problem because of how badly her head hurt. If she had taken a hit-- oh. Mr. Stilinski's concerned face melted into something closer to a smile. "There we go. Things coming back to you now?"

"Yeah." A glance down at her fingers showed that, sure enough, she was still holding hands with him. If hers were numb his must be way worse off, but he still twitched them in an attempted squeeze she couldn't quite feel. "Are we at your house now?"

"Yup. Can I have my hand back for just a few minutes? I want to get you inside so Chris and the others can take care of you."

"They don't have to--"

Now Mr. Stilinski was scowling, so she stopped herself. The words were piling up in her throat though, begging to be let out. Chewing on her lower lip was a habit that worked to stop that; she didn't expect Mr. Stilinski's expression to immediately go soft. "You still look like hell, kiddo. Chris and Stiles are going to want to help. Peter will too, though he'll probably be losing his shit internally."

That didn't make a lot of sense - it probably wouldn't even if she didn't have the headache from hell. She didn't even really _know_ Mr. Argent, and it was only recently that she had stopped treating Stiles badly. Peter seemed to like her though, so maybe the werewolf would be sort of interested in making sure she was alright.

"So can I get my hand?"

Heat rushed to her face, and she very carefully peeled her fingers away from Mr. Stilinski's one by one. "Sorry."

"Don't worry about it. Now let's get you inside."

Mr. Stilinski was in the process of helping her out of the car when the front door slammed open. Kira flinched back without meaning to, a sharp but brief pain jolting through her arm and head. Mr. Stilinski kept her steady though, and it took only a moment for Peter's features to become clear. His eyes were glowing blue in the dark of the night, and his nostrils were flared; he would be able to smell the blood still in her hair and on her face and clothes. Her lower lip was between her teeth again as she ducked her head and hunched her shoulders to make herself smaller. Peter's expression had been hard, with his jaw clenching and unclenching in the same steady rhythm as his claws popped in and out of his fingers. Even if her nose wasn't as good as Scott's or Malia's, she could still scent the acrid stench of fury rolling off him in waves.

She hadn't meant to bother anyone.

Her shoulders loosened a little when Mr. Stilinski gave the right one a reassuring squeeze. She still kept her eyes down and away from Peter though. Him being angry at her was totally more than she could process right now. Kira didn't know if he was mad that she had interrupted whatever he had been doing or upset that she had lost the fight she had been in. Either way, there was a pit in her stomach that probably wasn't going to go away any time soon. She _hated_ upsetting or bothering other people.

Peter's feet came into view long before they got to the Stilinski's front porch - the fact that they were bare was oddly fascinating even though everything still hurt. Putting her attention on his toes was also a good way to keep from looking up into his face, something she was going to avoid as long as possible. Peter was probably going to yell at her or lecture her, because as much as he indulged Stiles there had to be a reason why Scott hated him so much.

Warm fingers framed the cut on her forehead, and she nearly collapsed to the ground when everything stopped hurting all at once. Mr. Stilinski wasn't the one who caught her either. She pitched forward and landed against a firm chest that smelled like Peter without that awful cloud of anger that had been there earlier. Kira chose not to think about that too hard, because now her head was spinning instead of trying to split itself open.

"You're even better than the good drugs," she said into the muscles that made a surprisingly good pillow. It took a bit of effort to crack one eye open, but she was glad she had managed it. Peter's forearms were pretty unmistakable, even with pitch-black lines snaking their way over them. Maybe he wasn't mad at her after all. "So much better. All the better. I mean, I've only had them once and it was a couple years ago, but I'm pretty sure this is better from what I remember. You should advertise. I mean if other people were allowed to know about werewolves. You would be soooo popular with women. They'd all book you for baby delivery and oh my God you'd be amazing during shark week. Ten out of ten, would recommend. Maybe you could just make a craiglist ad and offer yourself up as a snuggle buddy and then people wouldn't know why you make them feel so much better."

"I'll take that under consideration." Peter's voice was almost the same as it usually was - drier than the desert. There was a hint of a growl beneath the words, but she could ignore that. He wasn't growling at her, not when he was taking her pain so thoroughly. Probably. He was confusing sometimes. "I want to know exactly how this happened so I know who to kill."

He sounded downright _pleasant_ , like he was making small talk about the weather. It raised goosebumps on her arms, because murder shouldn't sound so casual. Mr. Stilinski heaved a world-weary sigh behind her before reaching out to pat her on the back. It should have felt awkward, but it was kind of nice to have people be so worried over her. She hadn't wanted to bother anyone, but since she already had she was going to enjoy the coddling while it happened.

"I don't know exactly what happened. I was more concerned with getting her here than getting the story. All I got was that Scott didn't join her on a patrol and that an Omega was responsible." Peter smelled like fury again, but the hand he smoothed over her hair was gentle. "Get her inside and taken care of - I've gotta head back to work to keep anyone from asking questions."

"I'll fill you in on the details in the morning. Be careful out there, Sheriff."

"Thank you Mr. Stilinski." She was still talking into Peter's chest, but Mr. Stilinski patted her on the back again so he probably had heard her anyway. Getting into the house was easy with Stiles' wolf carefully shepherding her to the door. He kept up the pain-drain until she was sitting on the couch with him crouched in front of her. He almost looked regretful as he eased off and she felt the hurt slowly seeping back into her body.

"I can't keep it up for too long," he told her quietly. It felt like he was asking for forgiveness, which was just silly. She'd been the one to lose a fight and get herself so injured that she needed help. "If I were an Alpha I could sustain it longer, but even then I couldn't do indefinitely. Knowing where and how you're hurting will help patch you up in any case."

"That makes sense. Does taking pain like that hurt you? Oh my God, if it does you should stop doing it right now. I mean, everything still hurts but not as much as it did when it first happened, and my headache is definitely down to functioning during a migraine levels. So I'm okay. I wish my arm healing didn't feel so gross though. Hi Mr. Argent."

Peter didn't look over his shoulder to see the new arrival - he was still completely focused on her. He didn't answer her question either, which was fishy. Once she was all healed up she was totally gonna ask him again. Or maybe Stiles would ask for her - the answer would probably be more truthful that way.

Her arm was throbbing and she could feel bone slowly shifting under her skin. Even if her head wasn't pounding it would be hard to distract herself from that. As interesting as Peter's ability to take pain was, it was too close to everything she was doing her best not to think about. Maybe nothing would be enough to take her mind off the pain but she could sure try, and with Mr. Argent now in the room she could use him to do it. He was in his pajamas, which meant her presence was definitely bothering him. There was no way he was happy to be cleaning her cut out when he could be sleeping instead.

"I've told you - it's Chris. That's a nasty looking wound you've got there."

Mr. Argent was barefoot too. It struck her as funny to have both him and Peter fussing over her that way. They were almost always snapping at each other, but there they were with their feet all vulnerable in front of each other because of her. A giggle bubbled up from where the pit in her stomach had been earlier, and she didn't try to stop it. Peter rolled his eyes, but when Mr. Argent carefully took hold of her chin and made her look at him, he looked more concerned than exasperated.

"You don't look hysterical--"

"That's because she isn't," Peter said, tone suggesting that Mr. Argent was a moron. "She is, however, bleeding. So if you could perhaps do something about that it would be greatly appreciated. If you would prefer to make observations that help no one then go away and let me take care of it."

"Dude, I know you're freaking out but take the hostility down a notch or two." Even if Peter growled half-heartedly at Stiles in response, relief washed over. Being in the middle of one of Peter and Mr. Argent's spats was never comfortable. She might burst into tears if they really got going with her between them. Stiles would keep them both from getting too bad, and if she could have jumped up and given him a hug she definitely would have. "I found some gloves for you Chris, and I sterilized the tweezers just in case. Looks like it was the right thing to do, because that looks like a mess."

Stiles was frowning by the time he got to the couch, though he still briefly rested one hand on the back of Peter's neck while he passed the gloves and tweezers to Chris. The werewolf's shoulders noticeably relaxed, and his eyes finally went back to a clear, non-supernatural blue. Scott would hate it if he knew how close Stiles and Peter were, and sometimes it made her a little nervous too. Everything Lydia and Scott had told her about Peter was a little horrifying, after all. But when she saw them together, saw how Peter grounded Stiles while Stiles smoothed some of Peter's sharper edges, she didn't worry so much.

She felt chilly fingers lightly wrap around her wrist, calling her back to the moment and - unfortunately - the continued ache. "What happened, foxy lady?" Stiles' eyes were tight with worry, mouth a thin line as he looked her over. "And why are you healing so slow? Was it an Alpha? Please tell me it wasn't an Alpha - we cannot handle a rogue Alpha right now." His gaze slid to Peter, whose expression was blank; Kira wasn't fooled. Peter had already said he would kill whoever had hurt her, and if it _had_ been an Alpha that would have been bad. Really really bad. Scott wouldn't handle Peter being an Alpha well, and she didn't know if Peter himself would handle it much better Not with the stories she had heard.

"It was an Omega. I think?" Chris made an inquisitive sound in his throat while tipping her head back. Cold water hit the still-open wound, and her arm throbbed again when she tried to flinch away from it. "Well, we think. Scott said that's what it was."

"Wait. Wait wait wait. There's an Omega? Scott _knew_ there was an-- unbelievable. Un-be-fucking-lievable. He didn't say anything about... if he wasn't a werewolf and my hand wouldn't break on impact I would punch him, swear to God. Not important right now though - more interested in the lack of healing." The hurt in Stiles' expression caused a sinking feeling in her chest. She should have told him, even if Scott had asked them all to leave Stiles out of it. Scott wanted Stiles as far away from the supernatural as possible, to protect him, and Kira had followed along blindly. Now Stiles was sad and hurt, resignation coloring his scent, and she just wanted to hug him and apologize forever. "Come on zombie-wolf, we both know you're a walking supernatural encyclopedia - out with it."

As careful as Chris was being, it still wasn't pleasant to have him pulling out bits of dirt, tiny pebbles and leaf debris out of the cut. She did her best not to shrink away or whimper or anything, but she really wasn't a fan of pain no matter how good she was at pushing through it in the heat of the moment. The aftermath of fights always sucked. Peter's enhanced senses must have picked up on her discomfort, because as he pondered over Stiles' question he brushed Stiles' hand away from hers and took it himself to begin drawing her pain again.

"Kitsune aren't werewolves."

"So informative. So helpful."

"Chris, come on dude."

Peter didn't deign to acknowledge Chris' interruption with more than a dismissive sniff. "Most - if not all - of their power comes from their tails. Kira is new to her heritage, and half human on top of that. Her body can handle diseases and small injuries with ease, but the worse a wound is the more energy it takes to heal. Even for werewolves," he added, which made Stiles close his mouth before asking the question. "Our bodies will do it so long as the wound isn't fatal, but you've seen how much we all eat afterwards. I'm not one hundred percent certain - kitsune lore is disappointingly vague and hard to find - but for someone in Kira's position, someone half-human..." Peter paused and gave Kira's hand a squeeze when Chris pulled out a bit of dirt that had been pressed deep into the wound. "Your kitsune side may not be entirely on this plane."

"... sounds made up, but sure. What does that have to do with her healing?"

"For a werewolf - especially a born werewolf - our two sides are essentially one. The balance between instinct and intellect can sometimes be difficult, but there is very rarely a true conflict between the human and wolf. Scott is the exception that proves the rule, of course. Even as a... True Alpha he has rejected many parts of what being a werewolf means." It was soothing to listen to Peter while Chris worked. It was sort of like hearing her dad talking about history - maybe Peter should be a teacher when he wasn't busy being a werewolf. "For a kitsune with human heritage, things are different. From what I've been able to find, the human and fox are very nearly separate beings, at least in their younger years. It might be because they are born with human forms - in much of the lore, kitsune aren't able, or allowed depending on the source, to take a human form until they reach their first century of life. So Kira's fox half may be happily frolicking in an entirely different plane where kitsune spirits live."

"Considering how hard the lore is to find, you seem to know a lot of it," Chris said while setting the tweezers aside. "How much of this is conjecture? I'm going to use a saline solution for one last rinse before I put the gauze on," he added to Kira. "Then I'll take a look at your arm."

"Thanks Mr. Argent.

"It's Chris."

"To answer your question, Christopher," Peter interjected, annoyed as usual at his foe. "There is a certain amount of guesswork, of course, but there always is. At least I don't entirely fabricate vicious lies and slander for the purpose of brainwashing young minds. The Argent Bestiary is full of both, so I think perhaps any guesswork I make is better than anything you could offer. To get to the point of the lecture, Kira's kitsune half seems to most strongly manifest when she's in danger. The wounds given to her by the Omega aren't even close to fatal, so why expend the energy it would take to heal her as quickly as, say, myself or Scott would? It's still accelerated, and as the one experiencing the true discomfort is Kira's human half... I suspect the fox part of her has better things to pay attention to."

They were all quiet as they soaked in that theory, and then Kira wrinkled her nose. "I wish my fox-self was here so I could flip it off." Stiles started to laugh and Mr. Argent chuckled a little as he smoothed the dressing over her wound. "No really. It's not fair. I was promised super-strength, super-senses and super-healing. I want a refund. I was clearly cheated."

"Kitsune are tricksters by nature," Peter reminded her, eyes dancing with their own kind of mischief. "You were lucky to get two out of the three. Now." Kira would never get used to the way Peter's expression could change so quickly. One second he was open and friendly, with a smile tugging at his lips and his eyes lit with good humor. The next instant he would be cold and sharp as the blade of her katana, with not a hint of kindness left in him. If it bothered her she couldn't imagine how Scott and the others felt about it.

Stiles seemed to take it in stride though. He even looked approving as he glanced down at his wolf.

"Get the story, zombie-wolf. I'm gonna go get Kira something to wear to sleep in. And some water - you should definitely drink some water. Shit, I should have gotten you some right away. Fighting and bleeding tends to lead to dehydration even if you don't feel it yet. And maybe you should have a snack? Fighting is an energy-suck too, and you're probably gonna crash soon, now that you're safe and bandaged up and everything. Okay - pajamas, water and a snack. You can tell me more about who we're killing when I get back."

Peter's smile was every bit as vicious as the one Stiles shot him before leaving the room to fulfill his mission. They really would kill the Omega who had attacked her, and they'd probably do it with glee. Kira bit her lower lip, torn between protesting and feeling relieved. On the one hand, murder was a bad. Scott always seemed to manage to get through everything without killing anyone, so she should probably encourage Peter and Stiles to follow that model.

On the other hand, the Omega had nearly managed to kill _her_ , and she had her kitsune heritage on her side. If a human ever crossed her path... Kira shivered at the vivid picture her mind supplied of such an event. Even if they drove the Omega out of Beacon Hills - Scott's plan - it wouldn't really solve the problem. She would just go somewhere else, and if anyone died at her claws wouldn't Scott and their pack be responsible for it?

There was also a part of her, a small part that she was a little afraid of, that was darkly pleased by the idea. Part of her was glad the Omega who attacked her was going to die, and she was glad to know that there were people willing to kill _for her_.

It was too much to think about, so Kira closed her eyes and sank back into the couch. Mr. Argent carefully made her move her arm, and the pain wasn't as bad as it had been. There were no black veins crawling over Peter's skin, so the fading hurt was all her and her aloof, trickster kitsune half. "A few days ago Scott called us all in for a pack meeting. Not Stiles," she added, voice quiet from the shame of it. "He says... Scott's trying to protect him, keep him away from the supernatural after the Nogitsune. He told us all not to tell Stiles. I shouldn't have... I won't do that again. We've been patrolling in pairs at night since then, and tonight it was me and Scott, but he had something else he had to do--"

Peter snarled and abruptly pulled away, the scent of anger billowing from him like a cloud. Now that she knew he wasn't angry with her, she didn't flinch or shrink away. Kira watched as Peter paced, hands balling into fists before flexing open with his claws out. His eyes were glowing again, and she was a little worried that he was going to storm out of the house and confront Scott right away.

"It was fine! He let me know a few hours ahead of time and asked if I'd still make the rounds. I should have called Malia or Lydia or Stiles, but I thought... it was supposed to be just an Omega. There have been a few others--"

Peter whirled on her, upper lip peeled back in a snarl. " _What_?"

Kira gulped, nerves coming back full-force. Mr. Argent let go of her arm with a sigh and settled a heavy hand on the back of her neck instead. "Peter - not helping. Calm down or get out."

"You are not my Alpha, _Christopher_." Despite the scathing retort, Peter did visibly get control of himself, claws and the beginnings of sideburns retreating. "There have been others?"

"Yeah. Only a few. We scared two away and when the third wouldn't leave we knocked him out and Deaton took him somewhere. It was kind of creepy but I didn't want to ask questions. Deaton freaks me out but Scott trusts him, so... anyway. The two we got to leave weren't fighters, and they were more scared than anything. Even the other one wasn't hard to beat. It's because they don't have a pack, right? Omegas are supposed to be weaker. So I should have been able to handle one."

"Just because you _can_ doesn't mean you _should_. If there's an active threat to the pack you shouldn't be out patrolling on your own. The next time McCall cancels on you, you call Stiles. Or me - you should have my number. Put it in your phone and you call me if McCall abandons you again."

"He didn't abandon--"

"You should have my number too, and John's. I'm guessing you called the Sheriff's Department, right? You're lucky it was John who showed up. You need a way to reach us directly."

They _cared_. She hardly knew them and they cared, and it had been a really bad night and she was still sore, and she didn't mean to start crying but several tears escaped unbidden. Peter immediately stopped pacing and knelt in front of her again, resting gentle fingers next to the bandage on her forehead. "Does it still hurt? I can--"

"N-no. It's just... it's just that you've all been so nice and I was so scared and I thought..." She didn't want to be crying, hated that she had started trembling and sniffling like a baby. "I almost didn't get my katana out in time and... and... and--" Chris stroked a lock of hair away from her face while Peter growled in a way that felt more protective than anything, hand still poised to draw out the rest of her pain, and Kira closed her eyes against the overwhelming emotions running through her. This was part of the 'crashing' Stiles had mentioned, she knew that, but she was still so happy they cared and so sorry they were going through so much trouble for her. There was also the guilt of not telling Stiles, of lying through omission for the past few weeks when he had been so happy they were friends. And they were going to kill the Omega for hurting her, and Scott would be so mad when he found out, and it would drive another wedge between him and Stiles and it was going to be her fault.

She was sobbing into Peter's shoulder before she knew it, with Chris' hand a solid comfort resting on her back. She didn't deserve how nice they were being, not really. Kira was grateful for it all the same, because they both just let her cry it out. A weight settled on her right, and then Stiles was gently pulling her toward him so she could snuggle into his side. He took over for both Chris and Peter, letting her sob into the crook of his neck while he rubbed her back and made soothing sounds against her uninjured temple. Vaguely, distantly, she knew that Chris and Peter had gotten up and were talking quietly in another part of the room, but that didn't matter as much as the boy who was who was quickly becoming her best friend.

It took a while for her to calm herself, and Stiles never once got impatient with her for it. When she finally did stop, he pressed a tissue into her hand. Stiles stayed quiet as she cleaned herself up a little, and he didn't pull away either. Kira rested her head on his shoulder as her breathing slowly returned to normal, eyes closed and heartbeat steadying.

"I'm sorry. I should have told you."

" _Scott_ should have told me. You may be a kitsune, but you're still part of his pack. He's the Alpha." There was a bitter edge to Stiles' voice that she had never heard before, but it was gone when he spoke again. "So I don't blame you. But in the future? Tell me. You're my Disney sing-a-long buddy and I'll be super pissed if you get yourself killed. Peter only sings when you're here, you know, which is kind of grossly unfair, but whatever. The point is that we're here for you, so call instead of going out into the woods alone at night when you know there's an Omega and we all know that shit has been even weirder than usual in there besides that. Call us."

"I can do that."

"Great! Now drink this juice and then some water," he demanded, taking the tissue from her and putting a glass in her hand instead. It was gross and snotty, but he just took it from her because he knew her other arm was still hurting. It was almost enough to send her into another crying fit. Instead she drank the apple juice obediently. When the first drop hit her tongue she was immediately more thirsty than she had expected. She finished it quickly, then drank the water Stiles passed over next. "Slow down - water makes you sick if you drink it too fast. There's more where that came from, so drink slow. I brought trail mix, so eat some of that too."

"You seem to know exactly what I need," she teased after setting her glass down and exchanging it for a handful of trail mix. "It's almost like you're an expert." Kira smiled at him, but the one she got in return was as sharp as glass. There were shadows in Stiles' eyes - she hated that she had put them there, so she cuddled closer in a silent apology.

"There have been a lot of fights. I figured out what worked eventually."

It hurt, thinking of Stiles all alone and trying to figure out how to take care of himself. He didn't heal like the rest of them did, and from the way he talked it didn't sound like he had anyone offering to take his pain. Not until Peter, anyway, because if Stiles' wolf had reacted that way to her being hurt he would probably go crazy if Stiles was ever injured. He would probably take the pain until it killed him.

"Thank you Stiles."

"No problem, foxy lady. I got you some clean pajamas - my clothes will probably be too big on you, but they'll be comfy. Uh... this part is awkward." Confused, she pulled back enough to look up at him and saw a light flush on his cheeks. "Because you have foxy lady bits and none of the rest of us do, but with your arm and all... I can't tell who would be more embarrassed, you or me or Peter or Chris, but if you need... okay, here's the sitch." Stiles took a breath, firmed his chin, then barreled full steam ahead while refusing to look down at her. "You're a mess and you really probably need a bath or a shower. If you need one of us to help you, we'll figure it out--"

"I'll be fine!" Her voice was a high-pitched squeak even to her own ears, and her cheeks were burning. "If it's a bath... I can manage."

"Are you sure? Your hair..."

"You could help me rinse it out before I get naked. For the bath!" she added quickly, horrified with herself. Her cheeks were getting hotter and hotter, with the warmth spreading to the back of her neck and her ears. "Over a sink or something. Then I could do the rest, you know. Alone. Because--"

"Yeah. You're my platonic soulmate and all, but--"

"Yeah." Silence reigned for a few heartbeats, during which her eyes began to droop a little. "I think we should do that now."

"Eat a little more of the trail mix first, and maybe take a few more sips of water."

"Yes mom."

Stiles blew a raspberry in her direction, and then they both settled into a more comfortable quiet. She managed a few more handfuls of trail mix before she started to yawn. When one of them was so big she felt and heard her jaw pop, Stiles decreed it was time to get her cleaned up. By the time she got to the bathroom, her arm was well enough that she could help him with her hair. Her shirt and jeans ended up sopping wet, but they were a lost cause anyway and she didn't have to show anyone her 'foxy lady bits'. As much as she wanted to take a long bath, Kira knew she would fall asleep and probably drown if she tried. In the morning maybe, before Mr. Stilinski took her to her house.

She lingered just long enough to get clean and for some of the remaining ache to leave her body. Stiles' clothes were a little big but they also smelled reassuringly like him and Peter, and he had been right about them being comfortable too. Unclear about the sleeping situation, she wandered toward Stiles' room to ask him. He would know, and she could just follow his instructions and go to bed - she was exhausted. Before reaching his door, however, she paused on hearing voices.

"You're sure you don't mind? I know you didn't like it when I joked about another werewolf being in my bed."

"She's not another werewolf and she could probably use the comfort. Besides, sleepovers are a teenage right of passage. You can giggle about boys and braid each other's hair."

"As a stereotype that is vaguely sexist, but I'll let it slide. You'll stay in the room?"

"Of course."

"And you won't let me kill anyone?"

"No one who doesn't deserve it." The words had the feeling of ritual, of something sacred and private. Kira felt like she was intruding by hearing them, but she couldn't pull away either. "The Omega does, but we'll worry about that tomorrow. For tonight... I won't let you hurt anyone, sweetheart."

"Peter?"

"I still want you, Stiles. Whatever happens, I will always, _always_ want you. I would still offer you the bite in a heartbeat, and any Alpha would be lucky to have you."

Kira blushed at the amount of feeling Peter put into his words. He sounded almost worshipful, like Stiles was his everything, and she shouldn't be hearing this. It was something just for them, something that she had no business knowing about. For the first time it hit her that Peter _loved_ Stiles. He wasn't just helping someone he saw as pack, and he wasn't just using Stiles the way Scott would think either. Stiles was too young for him, but she had the feeling that Peter would wait forever for Stiles to be ready and that he would take whatever he could get until then. It was sweet, in a weird and slightly creepy way.

It was perfect for both of them.

Quiet had fallen, and once it stretched out long enough Kira felt comfortable approaching Stiles' door. It was open, so maybe they wouldn't mind if anyone heard, but she still felt a bit bad for listening in. She was definitely not going to mention what she had overheard though. "Stiles? I'm about ready to fall asleep standing up," she said after knocking twice on the door frame. Kira pretended she hadn't seen how close they were standing, or the way Peter's mouth had been pressed to Stiles' wrist. Both were part of the ritual that was only theirs, after all. "The couch looked big enough for me to--"

"You are not sleeping on the _couch_ ," Peter interrupted, upper lip peeling back in a sneer again. "You need actual rest, not to wake up tired in the morning with an aching back."

"Okay, one - the couch isn't that bad, but two - he has a point Kira. Chris said he would sleep down there if you wanted your own bed, but..." Stiles bit his lower lip, expression turning haunted for just a second. "It was hard, being alone after the Nogitsune. It's not the same, I know, but even when Gerard kidnapped me and worked me over a little - it's in the past Peter, I'm fine, stop growling - I hated that I had to come home alone. So if you want you can bunk with me tonight."

"Oh, I... I couldn't..." Or at least she shouldn't, not after what she had heard. Peter must sleep with Stiles most nights, maybe even every night. Kira didn't want to take that away from either of them. At the same time, the thought of sleeping in a strange bed in a strange house alone after the night she'd had sounded awful. She was torn again, chewing her bottom lip as she weighed her options.

"I for one would feel much better if both of you were in the same place," Peter said in what she almost believed was a casual suggestion. "Think of it as doing me a favor, unless it's not something you're comfortable with."

"Well foxy lady? It's up to you, and don't let Peter guilt you into doing it either."

"You... you really don't mind? Either of you?" Stiles scoffed and rolled his eyes before getting into the bed. Once he'd slipped under the covers, he turned the other side down in a silent invitation. Peter... Peter watched them for a second, then crossed the room to her. He reached up with both hands, not hesitating at all but going slow enough that she could pull away if she wanted to. Being careful of her left temple, he framed her face and then slowly dragged his fingers down her cheeks.. His right hand stayed there while the left curled around the back of her neck. It was intimate without being remotely sexual, and tears pricked her eyes as she recognized the gesture for what it was.

She had seen Scott and Malia scent each other; neither had ever offered the same to her and she had been too afraid to ask. Lydia didn't seem bothered when they didn't do it to her. Maybe they had thought she would be the same, since kitsune weren't, traditionally, part of packs. Kira had wanted it though - she had wanted to feel like she belonged.

Now Peter was offering it without needing to be asked, the same way Mr. Stilinski had earlier with his words. She sniffled and for a second Peter looked mildly alarmed. The expression turned to a smile, however, when she mirrored his actions.

"You're ours, Kira Yukimura," he told her quietly. "You may also be McCall's, but you're ours. So no, we don't mind you staying in here tonight, or the night after, or the one after that if it's what you need. You're pack." From him the word was a vow, almost as sacred as the ritual he had shared with Stiles earlier. They had claimed her, Peter and the Stilinski's and Chris, and that soothed the fear that she was bothering them and making herself a burden. Peter wouldn't have said that unless he meant it.

"Thank you." Peter smiled at her again, then pulled away and gestured to the bed. Stiles was watching them fondly, still waiting for Kira to join him. "We are gonna have the best snuggle ever," she decided aloud.

"Epic snuggling is about to occur," he agreed with a wise little nod. "So get your butt over here, foxy lady. It's time to sleep."

While Kira crawled in next to Stiles, Peter settled himself in a chair next to the window. He really was staying in the room with them, and that made her feel safe and warm. Even if the Omega remembered her scent and tracked her down, Peter wouldn't let her hurt Kira. Not again.

As soon as she was under the covers, Stiles wrapped his arms around her - she had a feeling if he wasn't still worried about her arm, he would have turned into a human octopus. Since it was still tender, they both wriggled and squirmed until they found the perfect snuggling position, with her head tucked under his chin and his hand trailing up and down her spine. She was warm and safe, she was pack, and a wolf with glowing blue eyes was watching over the both of them.

Scott had told her what the color meant, disgust evident in his voice and the twist of his lips. Maybe Kira didn't like where the blue stemmed from, but she figured guilt over a murdering an innocent was better than eyes that stayed golden afterward.

Besides - both wolves she'd known with blue eyes had only ever looked out for her.

As she drifted off to sleep snuggled against Stiles' chest, she had the idle thought that she hoped Derek was okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right now I'm hoping to update on either a weekly or bi-weekly basis, depending. Every chapter will have two POV's, unless y'all would rather me stick to one per chapter? That'd be more but shorter chapters, and I'm cool doing it either way. Let me know!
> 
> Thanks again and maybe take a peek at my [tumblr](http://tahlreth.tumblr.com) if'n ya wanna. <3


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is ridiculously later than I had intended. ;.; I suck.
> 
> This chapter is also not beta'd because of aforementioned suckiness, but I felt the need to post this like, now. All errors are absolutely mine and I hope it makes sense and isn't awful! :'D
> 
> Kudos and comments give my life joy and meaning. <3 Thanks for reading!

Stiles and Kira both looked so young and peaceful while they slept. It should have been enough to make him smile, watching them in the soft light of the early morning. They were wrapped around each other with Kira drooling onto Stiles' neck while he had a mouthful of her hair and didn't seem to mind. Her arm was clearly fine, and Peter knew that if he peeled back the bandage still on her forehead he would find nothing but smooth skin underneath. Even the bandage itself was innocent and unassuming, no blood marring its pristine surface. So it should have been enough, to see her - them - like that. It should have settled his wolf to watch them snuggle in their sleep. No matter how much he wanted to rip apart the Omega that had hurt Kira from limb to limb, Peter knew he should have felt calmer knowing that she was currently safe and in his - his and Stiles' - den.

He didn’t though. It wasn't enough.

Not when the name 'Scott' had flashed on the screen of Kira's phone three times now. Once she woke up, that name and whatever messages had been left might be enough to lure her away from the pack, away from where she was _safe_. McCall had the red eyes of an Alpha but he had no business leading a pack. Even Derek - flawed, unsteady, unsuitable Derek - had understood that he had responsibilities and obligations to those he called pack. He'd been terrible at fulfilling them, of course, but at least he had known. If things in Beacon Hills weren't always so batshit insane, his poor nephew likely would have been able to grow into being a decent Alpha. Part of his failure, after all, was that he was preparing for war as much as putting together a pack. It was hard to do both at the same time, and Derek just hadn't been up to the task.

McCall wouldn't be able to manage a stable, well-established pack without everything descending into chaos. Peter couldn't - wouldn't - trust the resident True Alpha with the care of so much as a _flea_... but he very much doubted Kira would break with the boy over this. Maybe she was a fox but the girl was still loyal. She had been defending McCall even while she was sitting on the couch, bleeding and hurt in large part because of her Alpha's inability to honor his responsibilities.

He hadn't known she was pack - really, truly, irrevocably _pack_ \- until he had smelled her blood in the air. The scent had hit him while he was getting the xbox ready to play one of Stiles' superhero movies. He hadn't been able to think through the haze of fury that descended and had him ready to fight. He had shifted without consciously meaning to, and it wasn't until Stiles put himself squarely in his path that he was able to find even a little clarity.

At that moment, he had still been teetering at the edge of blood lust. One of his pack members had been hurt, and he was going to make whoever whoever was responsible pay. That would have been the plan, anyway, except that Stiles and Chris had meddled - Stiles more than Chris. He had pointed out that Peter was the only one who could take her pain, and that they should find out what had happened before they moved completely into DEFCON 1 territory. Chris had mostly threatened to shoot him if he went out half-cocked.

It had been the right call. He could admit that now that she was sleeping safely under his watchful eye. She no longer smelled of exhaustion and terror, which should have been enough to settle him. It wasn't and couldn't be, not until someone confronted Scott about his idiocy and someone killed the Omega who had hurt Kira. He was very much hoping the person to do both things would be him.

"Stop thinkin' so loud," Stiles croaked around strands of Kira's hair before gently batting them away. He didn't open his eyes to look at Peter, just turned more fully into her warmth. "Havin' a good sleep'n cuddle. Go make breakfast."

"I'm not your butler, Stiles - how many times do we have to go over that?"

"It's morning, I'm almost hungry and once Kira wakes up she definitely will be. Dad and Chris might be up too. We're all gonna need to eat Peter. Feed your pack, dammit."

Damn his boy for knowing _exactly_ which buttons to push. All his wolf instincts were demanding he get himself to the kitchen to provide food for his pack members. Especially Kira, who could use more support and care even if she had healed physically. And he always wanted to feed Stiles, and the Sheriff had had a difficult night--

"That's not always going to work, you know." The words meant nothing, not when he was already out of his chair and planning what to make for his pack. Eggs maybe, possibly waffles if Chris didn't irritate him too much before they were done. Although Kira had mentioned liking waffles, so perhaps he would make them anyway and just refuse to give the ex-hunter any. He did like watching Chris pout.

"Working today though. I want toast with--"

"Apple jelly," Peter intoned along with the teen, rolling his eyes. "I know, Stiles." He ran his hand over Stiles' hair as a casual way to scent him, then did the same to Kira. It felt a little strange but also soothing; he wanted his pack to smell like they were his. Stiles was watching him with knowing eyes, and it took a lot not to snarl at his boy. He settled for flipping Stiles off but that only made his boy laugh. Feeling simultaneously fond of and irritated with Stiles was certainly not a new state of affairs - that made it easy to ignore him and head downstairs.

It was still new the way he felt like an intruder in the kitchen first thing in the morning. John and Chris were almost always up - or at least moving around the house - before he was. Now that they were in a relationship, one fully endorsed by a newly energized Stiles, mornings had turned into 'them' time. As much as part of him was loathe to admit it, he did like seeing them so relaxed and smelling so contented. He just wished they would maybe do it somewhere else.

John didn't even acknowledge him when he walked in - he was too busy dozing against Chris, who was leaning back against one of the counters. Chris had one arm wrapped around John's waist while the other was massaging the back of the Sheriff's neck. Where Chris was still in his pajamas, John was in the pants of his uniform and a white undershirt with his hair more mussed than usual. He'd probably tumbled into bed still dressed when he got home, then napped only briefly before trundling down into the kitchen after Chris. They were rather sickening together and the worst part was how jealous Peter was of them.

"Did you already start the coffee?"

"He said you would do it if we waited," John answered before Chris could. His voice was a little muffled by the shoulder he had his face buried against, but Peter understood him just fine. "Would have done it myself, but it was a long damn night - neck is killing me."

"We need to get you a heating pad for your aching muscles, old man."

"I like this better. You've got nice hands."

"Will you both do me a favor and go be disgusting in the living room?" Chris gave a shit-eating grin, then flipped Peter the bird before going back to his task. Coffee was up to him it seemed, which should have been more irritating than it was. To make a point and to keep Argent from thinking Peter actually _liked_ him, he grumbled and snarled as he started up the coffee and got what he needed to make breakfast. Both men saw right through him probably, but at least Chris had the decency not to mention it. He didn't mind the way John would clap him on the back or trail a hand over his shoulder in thanks whenever he got close enough one bit. And as much as he pretended it was all for Stiles, he couldn't deny the way something in his chest went warm and soft at the way John smiled at him when he handed over a perfectly made cup of coffee.

Being part of a pack - even a tiny, Alpha-less one that included an Argent - had never felt so good.

***

Peter had expected a mutiny from his boy - Stiles was so wonderfully contrary - but he had never expected Kira to defy him.

"I'm not staying behind while you go fight her! The only reason you're even going after her at all is because of me, Peter. I can't... please don't ask me to stay at home while you fight my battles."

"I'm not doing this only for you," he said, grateful he had so much practice with not-quite lying to other supernatural beings. Kira was too young and inexperienced to catch it. Of course Stiles was side-eying him, but he could live with that. In fact, it might be prudent to set up a reward system for when his boy caught him in a half-truth. "This is Hale territory--"

"Scott's the Alpha." Stiles sound lazy, uncaring... but the sharpness in his gaze meant he was anything but. Peter did his best not to grind his teeth or flash his fangs at the mention of McCall, and he saw his boy noticing that as well. "This is his territory."

"McCall can barely manage his pack," he said instead of growling. Kira was looking between the two of them while she chewed on her lower lip. She didn't need to be nervous, but maybe she didn't know that. He liked that Stiles challenged him, because Stiles always did it for a _reason_. Even if that reason was just to force him to articulate his thoughts, he appreciated it. He liked knowing that Stiles would never sit back and watch as he sank back into madness and indiscriminate blood lust. "He sent Kira out alone and she almost died, Stiles. If he can't be there for her, how can we possibly expect him to be there for the rest of the territory? He may be a True Alpha and the leader of his pack, but he does not lead this territory. He probably doesn't even know what that kind responsibility would entail."

If it was only Stiles in the room, Peter would have been a lot more petty and insulting about McCall and his so-called moral character. With Kira there... with Kira there he knew he needed to try and keep hold of both his tongue and temper. She was part of his pack that had no Alpha, one that was so far away from what was known and traditional that his wolf was feeling a little insecure about his claim. Kira could still walk away so easily, so he would try to moderate himself.

At least until she understood him a little better.

"Um, I don't want to interrupt," she looked like she didn't even want to be in the room. "But Scott didn't really send me out alone? I mean, he didn't tell me not to patrol without him, but he didn't order me to do it either." He arched a brow at her and was almost amused by the way she blushed and ducked her head. "He did ask if I was still going, but I could have said no! So it's not really his fault."

"Nothing ever is, is it? Poor lost lamb McCall, drifting through life completely consequence free. I feel for him, truly."

"It’s not totally his fault though. No one ever really taught him--"

"It wasn’t totally my fault that I was insane at the time. And then I was a bit busy, Stiles, with the being dead and all. I do hope you haven't forgotten, as you were rather responsible for it." For just a moment Stiles looked stricken, and for that moment Peter hated himself. Then his boy recovered enough to roll his eyes and lean back in his chair and the moment was over. At least he was doing a wonderful job at keeping himself partially muzzled so as not to scare Kira away. Marvelous day overall, really. "Even if I had been here I wouldn't have been much help," he admitted in an apology that wasn't actually one.

"Nope."

"Scott really doesn't like you," Kira agreed, voice soft and sheepish. "He's always wondering what you're up to. I think maybe he was hoping you would end up being behind the disappearances in the Preserve."

"I gave the boy superpowers--"

"And a super dangerous new life running from hunters, so kudos to you there. It's too bad you didn't bite more people. You could have really brought the town together in their hatred of you." That stung, but he deserved it.

"Fine. That is not the point of this little talk, however. The point is this - through either no fault of his own or because he's a naive moron, McCall has no idea how to keep this territory safe. It used to be Hale territory and I am a Hale - I will do what needs to be done to protect it. Neither of you is coming with me to kill the Omega. That's the end of the discussion, so why don't we move on to what movie you two can watch while I'm off getting bloody?"

"He keeps forgetting he's not the Alpha," Stiles said to Kira with a wise little nod. "Just call your mom and dad before we head out, okay? Tell 'em... maybe not the whole truth unless you think they'd be okay with it. Just let them know we're going out on a, uh, patrol or something. Just in case."

"I really don't want to worry them... but they should know. Shouldn't they?"

"Dude. I struggled with that shit for three years, foxy lady, and I still don't really know the answer. You're gonna have to figure it out for yourself."

"None of this matters, because you both are staying here."

"Well are you going to tell the Sheriff? Or Chris?"

"A - my dad is going to cry if you don't start calling him John, and 2 - yes. Yes I will because if I don't Peter will share the story and for an evil asshole he likes to tell the truth a whole lot when it'll get my dad all riled up."

"That is completely untrue."

"Well then I guess I should tell my mom at least. She can figure out what to tell my dad."

"It's adorable, really, the way you're both ignoring me. You're still not coming."

"Kira, you want to drag zombie-wolf downstairs with you while you make the call? I wanna rub a new coat of wolfsbane oil into my bat, and you both should probably not be in the room with me while that happens."

"Ooh, no. Probably not. Thanks Stiles! Come on Peter - you can make a snack to bring with us."

"We are not bringing snacks to a murder."

"Not even for after? Because I feel like afterwards I'm probably going to be panicking a lot and chocolate really helps me when I'm that anxious."

She wasn't coming and neither was Stiles... but the thought of her being so upset after he dealt with business didn't sit well with any of his instincts. If chocolate could help then he would have to make sure something would be on hand. He could just leave it with her when he headed out - _alone_ \- to the Preserve. She could munch on that instead of imagining all the ways he was going to hurt the Omega for daring to lay a single claw on her. If he made enough it might even keep Stiles too busy chewing to convince her to follow after him. It was a good plan, and if it was a plan that also meant he was providing food for his pack again, well. It was mere coincidence.

"You're not coming, but I can still make you something. Why don't you pick out a movie instead of calling your parents?"

"Peter?"

"Hm?"

"You don't really think you're going to convince us to stay here, do you you? Because we're coming, me and Stiles. This might not be an Omega, and even if it is... you were the one who said it. That if there's an active threat to the pack you shouldn't be out patrolling alone. This could be - this could be a threat to our pack. So we're going to come with you whether you like it or not. We're not going to abandon our packmate."

"... that was... both very insightful and incredibly manipulative."

"I guess? Maybe a little. Sorry."

"Extra chocolatey murder snacks for you."

"Yay?"

***

Finding the Omega was easy - traces of her scent had clung to Kira the night before, and more of that same scent wound through the Preserve near his old home. He didn't bother to visit the clearing and ignored the way both Stiles and Kira were watching him with worried eyes. He also pretended not to hear their whispering and refused to acknowledge the tic in his jaw. It was all in the past - there was no use revisiting it, especially not when there was a hunt to focus on.

As he led his two packmates through the trees, he found himself feeling rather proud of the both of them. They weren't able to move as quietly as he could, but they certainly weren't trampling around like a small herd of elephants. Kira was at Stiles' left elbow and she caught him every time he stumbled; in turn, he was very careful to keep his bat away from her. It was a wicked weapon, one that looked innocent but gave him the chills to look at. There was more than wolfsbane oil at work there, but Stiles' manic grin had forbidden any questions.

Both teens were doing well, and he could see the way Kira was continually scenting the air while she watched out for Stiles. McCall couldn't have done much training with her, and she had admitted herself that her mother wasn't doing much with her either. Maybe once this hunt was over he would need to try and rectify the oversight. Even if he couldn't find the text he had mentioned to Stiles he could at least take her out and help her hone her senses.

Even with both of them on the lookout, however, Peter was the one to recognize the moment when they stepped into the 'territory' the Omega had carved out for herself. He positioned himself in front of Kira just in time and roared out a challenge as he intercepted the Omega's charge at his newest packmate. She snarled in response but didn't evade his arm; he snagged her around the waist and tossed her away into a tree a few yards away. 

The woman was clearly an Omega, the scent of desperation and madness rolling off her in a thick cloud, but he could see that her blue eyes sometimes seemed shot through with veins of red. At first most of her focus stayed on Kira - she might remember the kitsune's scent and be eager to finish the job she had started. Kira fought well, but he didn't want her taking the brunt of the Omega's attacks and Stiles seemed to agree. Working together they managed to intercede enough that her focus finally wavered and then turned mostly to Peter. He evaded her claws whenever he could and dealt blow after blow of his own; Kira landed just as many with her katana while Stiles wielded his bat with deadly precision.

Which was why Peter found it odd and worrying that even the three of them working together don't take the Omega down easily. Omegas were never that strong, especially ones more feral than not. She was almost completely non-verbal - her 'vocabulary' seemed limited to roars, growls and grunts. Beyond that, her strategy was clearly limited to the present or maybe a handful of seconds into the future. It was Stiles that turned the tide of the battle in the end - later Peter would probably find that both galling and unbelievably attractive. Two clean hits with his bat end up breaking her left leg and shattering her right kneecap; when she lurched backwards with a whimper, Peter took his chance.

It was hard not to howl his victory to the sky as the Omega's blood dripped down his forearms to spatter against the forest ground. It had been a tough fight, tougher than it should have been. Even in his weakened state he shouldn't have been left panting for breath or with several healing wounds on his torso. It didn't feel like he had killed an Omega, not to his instincts. To his wolf, it was almost like he had killed an Alpha.

He wasn't surprised she had given Kira so much trouble - he was just glad the young kitsune had come out of the fight alive.

Thoughts of Kira were why he was holding himself back. Over the stench of blood and intruder and Omega he could also smell hints of her distress. This had been hard for her. She had admitted right from the start that it would be, but had insisted on coming anyway. It had been foolhardy of her but also brave and loyal. For that, she deserved not to have him rub the death of their enemy in her face. So he kept his howl internal and contented himself with sharing a fierce grin full of triumph with Stiles. His boy looked just as viciously pleased, leaning on his bat as he fought to catch his own breath.

Stiles had fought beautifully, Kira had more than played her part, and they had been right to come with him. If they hadn't, Peter would have been lucky if the fight ended with a tactical retreat. He had needed them, and now Kira needed him.

There wasn't a way to clean off his hands and arms, which meant the blood was there to stay until they got home. Kira was pale and shaking minutely, the smell of her anxiety growing stronger. "Stiles? Could you grab the bag Kira had earlier and get out the snacks?" Stiles saluted him with that damn bat, ambling over to the discarded drawstring bag Kira had shrugged off when the fight started. Peter went to her, hands twitching towards her shoulders before he made himself stop. She had splatters of blood across her jeans and a little bit on her face; he doubted she would appreciate it if he soaked her shirt in the stuff. "Breathe."

"Working on it," she squeaked, huge eyes on the Omega's body. "She's really--"

"Yes. She won't be able to hurt you or anyone else again. Kira?" His gentle but insistent tone brought her eyes to his, and he briefly wished he could offer her a hug. "She was feral. There's nothing we could have done to help her - she was without a pack for too long and couldn't find another way to anchor herself. Whoever she was before? That person was gone. She was closer to a rabid dog than anything else. This was for the best. The only other thing that could have been done was to send her to Eichen House."

He could see Stiles from the corner of his eye, could see the way his boy had gone rigid at the mention of the institution. A heartbeat later he forced himself to relax and turn back towards them. "That would have been way worse than this, let me tell you. I was mostly human when I was in that hell-hole and it was still all kinds of fucked up. We did the right thing, I think. But you're still crashing because shock, probably, and I'm feeling a little wobbly myself. So... snacks." Kira let out a breathless little laugh when Stiles pulled out the tupperware container full of turtle snack mix. He shook the container at her teasingly, gaining another laugh before she dug in and grabbed a handful.

It did seem to calm her, so maybe he had been right to make 'murder snacks' when she had asked. Doubling the amount of chocolate by adding some dark and white chocolate had probably been a good idea too. Stiles absolutely approved, giving a happy moan around the handful he had stuffed into his mouth. His boy had another handful ready, and at first he rolled his eyes at how ridiculous Stiles was... until he realized that second handful was for him. Stiles shoved it at his mouth until he had no choice but to open up and accept the offering. Despite the way he grumbled while chewing, he felt rather touched by the gesture - Stiles was trying to provide for him too.

"Stay here," he said to the two of them once his mouthful of snack had been swallowed. "Not up for argument, sweetheart," he added to keep Stiles from arguing with his mouth still full. "I just need to take care of the body--"

"That won't be necessary."

The interruption was sudden, coming out of nowhere, and the voice wasn't one he recognized. Peter reacted instinctively, going back into his beta-shift while putting himself between the teens and where he _thought_ the voice had come from. But when he whirled to face the possible threat... there was no one there. There weren't any new smells in the little clearing either, nothing that indicated someone (or something) else had joined them. There was only the Omega, Stiles and Kira... and Peter felt his hackles raise.

Kira's anxiety had skyrocketed, and now she had the back of his shirt clutched in one fist; she also had her katana at the ready in her other hand, because she would never let her fear stop her if the threat was genuine. Stiles, meanwhile, had immediately spurned Peter's gesture of protection to come and stand at his side, bat hefted back onto his shoulder. When he glanced over, his boy had a determined look on his face, eyes narrowed and lips pressed into a thin line.

"Ah, forgive me - I have startled you." Whoever or whatever was talking... their voice set Peter's teeth on edge. There was something wild in the tones despite the way it was also unnaturally smooth. He was reminded of rocks worn down by water over decades, centuries even, until they were silky to the touch. He would swear he could hear hounds baying the hunt and the shrieking of gale-force winds... but all that should be impossible. It was only a voice, after all. Unless...

"Who the fuck are you?"

" _Stiles_!"

"Like you weren't thinking the exact same--"

"Be _quiet_. Please," he added, trying to soften the harsh command in his voice. "For now, just... just hush. I offer you greetings," Peter called out, trying to recall all that he had once known of Faerie etiquette. He hadn't had much cause to think about it, not since the fire, his coma, and the destruction of the nemeton. All he could really do was be as polite as he could and hope like hell that Stiles and Kira would follow his lead. "Along with our apologies if we have disturbed you."

"Pe--"

"Hush," he breathed to Stiles again, then took his boy's hand and gave it a squeeze. "I believe we have stumbled upon one of the Fae, so will you please--"

"I am glad that you remember us at least a little, Peter Hale." A shiver ran down his spine at the use of his name, and he was suddenly glad that he had kept his middle name close to his chest - he didn't need anyone else having power over him. Stiles was the only one allowed to have that kind of influence in his life. "Your sister was never very fond, as I recall, but you offered the occasional gifts just as your parents and their parents did before."

"This land belongs to you even more than it did my family," he said in response, giving Stiles' hand another squeeze. Fear was lacing both his scent and Kira's - she had pressed closer to his back, and he could feel the way she trembled. His boy, on the other hand, was getting that glint in his eye that meant he was putting the pieces of a puzzle together. It made him worry, because the last thing they needed was to have Stiles asking questions about the disappearances before they knew what kind of Fae they were dealing with. "It was only right."

"Mm. Perhaps." Peter didn't know if the figure slowly approaching through the trees was male or female; it was equally possible that the being would identify as both or neither. Their skin glowed like moonlight, and he heard both Stiles and Kira draw in sharp breaths of awe as the being drew nearer. From the pelt that hung low on their hips, Peter guessed they were a hunter of some kind; he wasn't sure if the graceful, dangerous pair of antlers that grew from their head confirmed that theory or turned it to dust. The cloak draped over their shoulders was the only covering they had on their chest, and their dark hair was woven with softly gleaming flowers, feathers and beads.

It was their eyes that soon had Peter's full attention. Stars lived in the depths of their pupils, while different shades of green and brown mingled in their irises. He had the uneasy feeling that if he stared too long, he would drown in them or - at the very least - be taken so far out to sea that he would never find his way back to shore. Still, he couldn't look away until the Fae blinked, slow and long, then directed their attention to the corpse.

"I should have known it would be a Hale that would face her. The only Alpha I have seen is... lacking. He even ignored the call of a packmate in distress." The being looked over Peter's shoulder, and he heard Kira whimper when their eyes met. "I thought you would perish." There was an utter lack of caring in the words. It was a simple statement of fact, though a beat later the being's mouth split into a wide smile that revealed too-sharp teeth. Kira whined low in her throat, then hid her face against the back of his neck. "You are stronger than I thought. I should have watched that fight to its conclusion."

Stiles lunged forward - of course - or at least he tried. Peter grabbed hold of his upper arm and wasn't the least surprised when his boy responded by swinging that awful bat in his direction. It didn't connect, but it was enough to make him snarl at Stiles. At least he didn't struggle any further, but if looks could kill his glare would have made the Fae drop dead. "You just _watched_? What the fuck?! Why didn't you help her?"

"Stiles--"

"It wasn't my concern," the being answered, directing their full attention to Stiles for the first time. Peter bristled and had to stop _himself_ from charging this time. That was interest in their eyes, and he was full of the sudden fear that they might try to take Stiles. He would die before he let that happen, and he damned himself for not thinking to arm himself and his pack with iron before venturing out into the Preserve. "The Alpha was supposed to accompany her but did not. It showed a dismaying lack of character on his part, and that was all I needed to know. He failed the test. I thought it a given that any member of his pack would too."

"Test?" Stiles spoke in a voice that was more growl than anything; for just a second, Peter caught the scent of ozone in the air. All the hair on his body stood on end, and his wolf was convinced that lightning was about to strike. "Wanna explain what the fuck that means?"

"Your manners are lacking, but they can be taught," they murmured, head tipping to one side. "With the right Alpha Wolf at your side, you could learn. It means it was a test, young one. This territory requires a strong Alpha; for years beyond mortal memory that function was served by a Hale Wolf. There are other creatures who could provide the strength and stability required, but the land is used to werewolves. Their ability to pass for human is also useful in maintaining relations with mortals. They are good for the land, and so I sought to discover if the Alpha here was capable. He is not. I had some small hope for her," they added with another swift glance to the body of the Omega. "I gave her a taste of power. If she had managed to defeat the Alpha I could have helped her find her mind again."

"And the newest Alpha would be squarely in your debt," Peter concluded. Stiles was so angry he couldn't seem to form a sentence - thank the moon for small mercies - and Peter had a firm hold on him. Kira was still hiding and he didn't blame her a bit, especially when the Fae gave another too-sharp smile.

"Yes. It would have proved most amusing."

"I plan on becoming an Alpha."

"Again?" They asked, the wind in their voice momentarily growing louder. "The earth remembers the last time, Peter Hale. It did not end well for you and this territory was burdened with yet another unsatisfactory Alpha."

"In my defense I wasn't entirely myself at the time."

"And Derek did his fucking best, and Scott is too so I don't know who the fuck you think _you_ \--" Stiles was able to stop himself from finishing his thought, though it was clearly a struggle. "Peter is going to be a good Alpha."

"Peter Hale is already an Alpha... though his spark currently resides outside his body. Time will tell if that will change, but until then this territory requires a defender."

The Fae's voice had held the ring of prophecy, and Peter felt disappointment and hope flood him in equal measure. There was also no small amount of pride - to have one of the Fair Folk recognize that he had all the makings of an Alpha was an honor. It was just... he needed to be an Alpha in more than spirit. He needed red eyes and a mantle of authority so he could protect what was rightfully his - what should have _always_ been his.

"Peter and I can do it."

"You would set yourself this task, young one?" It was so hard to tell, because their voice was so far from being human, but... the Fae sounded surprised, and pleasantly so. "Even though it is not required of you?"

"Beacon Hills is my home, and I..." Stiles stopped, swallowed hard, then reached out to grab Peter's hand and held it like a lifeline. "I still feel the nemeton," he admitted quietly, voice full of shame. Peter couldn't help the wounded sound he made, because he hadn't _known_ \- Stiles hadn't said... "Even with the Nogitsune gone--"

"Any mortal would have been utterly ruined after being possessed by such a spirit, and yet you... remain. You remain and you can feel the pull of the nemeton - a feat worthy of feast and song. Will you allow me to throw a feast in your honor, Stiles? I promise the food will be nothing like you have ever tasted."

"My manners may be shit but that doesn't make me stupid."

"Next time just say 'no', Stiles," he murmured, gently prying his fingers away so he could wrap an arm around his boy. With him pulled close to Peter's side and Kira still curled up against his back, Peter almost felt secure. He almost stopped worrying that the Fae creature would try to steal his Stiles away. "We will have to decline the honor."

"A pity. Ah well. I will cease my interference, for now. To have you and Peter - and perhaps the little kitsune who will not speak to me - guarding this territory will be enough. For now. I will be interested in seeing how successful you can be with the spark of an Alpha that has yet to be lit. You should begin patrolling soon, Peter Hale. And a few gifts left in the traditional spots may encourage others of my kind to stop snatching mortals away."

"What?" Stiles' yelp came at the same time as the Fae creature faded away, leaving nothing behind but hoof prints in the soft earth where it had stood on human-shaped feet. The Omega's body was gone as well; Peter didn't want to think about what would happen to it. "... what the fuck?"

"Can we go home now?" Kira asked in a whisper as soft as Stiles, shivering against Peter's back. "I feel... I didn't like that."

With his wolf whining in the back of his mind, Peter completely agreed. They shouldn't linger in a place that was Fae-touched, and the only thing that troubled him more than what the Fae had said was the feeling of wrong that still hung in the air. Stiles was swearing and pacing, hands and arms going crazy as he talked to himself. Peter left him to it for the moment and turned to face Kira. Even though he was still bloody, he settled his hands on her upper arms; she didn't give a word of protest. She stared up at him with wide eyes full of unease, and she could feel her trembling faintly under his hold.

"The Fae can be... unsettling," he said carefully, fully aware that one or more of them might still be listening. "You'll feel better once we get you out of here. I think perhaps something chocolate and a Disney movie at Stiles' house is in order, don't you?"

It took a moment, but then a small smile broke out on her lips. "Can I pick the movie?"

"Of course."

"And you'll sing whatever part I assign you?" That smile of hers turned too sweet, and even if he narrowed his eyes at her in suspicion he was also proud of her emerging manipulative tendencies.

"That depends on the movie and the part."

"I want to watch Aladdin and you have to do Genie's part."

He tried to level an unimpressed look at her, but she didn't seem to notice. She just kept smiling up at him, looking so adorable and so vulnerable beneath that. Denying her request just wasn't in him, not after the night they'd all had. "You're in charge of making sure that Stiles records _none of this_."

"Sir yes sir!" Kira even saluted him, and it was a struggle not to smile at her. If he wasn't careful she was going to figure out how fond of her he was. That would be unacceptable. "So... can we go home and clean up? Because this was... uh, fun and all but..." She wrinkled her nose and looked down at the both of them. He pulled his bloody hands away, but that couldn't clean the stains he'd left on her shirt. "Ew."

"Stiles darling? If you would please stop chasing your own tail, I would appreciate it. Otherwise we will leave you here to find your own way home." While his boy stopped cursing the air to turn and curse him instead, Peter made a grand gesture for Kira to go on ahead of him. Giggling, she did just that and he followed after her - despite his loud and continued bitching, Stiles was only a beat behind them.

There was still a strong sense of lingering unease that he knew all of them could feel. Stiles and Kira were likely most concerned about the tease regarding the disappearances happening lately; Peter was more worried by the interest the Fae creature had shown in Stiles. It could mean any number of things and most of them weren't very pleasant. He only hoped Stiles would throw himself into research instead of roaming around the Preserve in hope of finding answers. Patrolling was one thing - poking a hornet's nest with a stick that would never be long enough was another thing entirely.

His wolf didn't settle at all during the walk to Stiles' jeep, too keyed up by everything that had occured that night. The drive home - to the Stilinski house, anyway - helped only a little. Even after his shower Peter felt on edge and certain that danger lurked around every corner. It wasn't until the three of them were on the couch, Stiles tucked against him while Kira cuddled against his opposite side that he started to relax. He would never admit to anyone but Stiles, but it wasn't until John and Chris joined them a few hours later to watch 'How to Train Your Dragon' that he finally stood down completely.

His pack was together and, for the moment, safe. It was almost everything he needed and more than enough to make him give a few content rumbles that he hoped none of them heard. He had an image to uphold after all.

~.~.~

The calendar on the fridge was ugly, cheap, and almost _exactly_ the same as the one that had been in the Stilinski household last year. And the one before that, and the one before that... for as long as the Historical Society had been making the shitty things, the Sheriff's office had bought one for every employee as a show of support. It always went up on their fridge, because it was a clear and easy way of keeping track of each other's lives. Doctors appointments, important tests, grocery shopping days... they were put up there in black and white where they couldn't be swept under the rug. In his younger, more bitter years Stiles had used the calendars to keep track of all the things his dad missed out on. Sometimes he and his dad used them in playful, passive aggressive ways - Stiles would put on appointments with the doc that his dad didn't think he knew about, his dad would make sure parent teacher conference nights were inked in even when Stiles 'forgot' to mention them.

Currently Stiles was caught up in staring at the date while it hit him that school was going to start up again in less than two weeks.

He shouldn't be so surprised by it, because he had always known summer couldn't last forever, but... fuck, why did it have to end so _soon_? And why did it have to be _now_? Stiles had felt... twitchy since meeting his first Fae. Peter had promised him that was normal - it would have been weirder if he felt completely fine. 'The Fae aren't of this world', his wolf had explained. Not like humans, werewolves, wendigos or even vampires, which were apparently a thing that Stiles would be happy never to have to deal with. While minor Fae were supposed to be easier on the palette, Peter suspected their Visitor was a part of one of the Faerie Courts which meant there was a whole lot of fuckery to be expected.

Peter had started up Fae etiquette lessons, because he apparently thought Stiles was 'an uncultured barbarian with no understanding of how to address anyone with any of importance and who shouldn't be allowed to speak in front of anyone whose IQ and maturity was over that of a five year old'.

Peter could be such an _ass_ when he was worried. If his wolf hadn't been freaking the fuck out - pacing and tugging at his hair included - Stiles would have punched him for that assessment. Part of him was still tempted to at least brandish a knife dipped in wolfsbane at Peter, but he should probably save that for the eventual honeymoon.

In the meantime, the people who had gone missing in the Preserve had probably been abducted by the Fae. Scott and the pack were not only ignoring him but actively hiding threats from him. Some random and possibly important Fae had seemed kind of interested in them, in _him_. He hadn't said anything to his wolf but he had sort of felt like he was being watched since that night Peter had killed the Omega. In happier news his dad and Chris were finally dating and Kira came over almost every day for at least an hour or so.

All of that was serious fucking business, and he should be focusing on it. Most of his focus should probably be on digging into the Fae and why their new friend in particular had left him feeling all twisty inside. He shouldn't be taken in by the typical high school bullshit of 'what will I do if my all my friends not-so-secretly hate me'?

His dad had already shot down homeschooling as an option though, so high school bullshit it was.

Stiles just hated that it would happen so _soon_. Soon Scott and the pack wouldn't have any excuses not to talk to him - they were all going to be right there, in the same building and often in the same class. If they kept shutting him out once September sixth rolled around, he was going to have to deal with some really unpleasant truths and figure out how to move forward. He didn't want to; he would rather summer lasted forever.

That wasn't even taking into account the fact that he was going to have to go all day without seeing Peter at all. No Peter for at least six hours a day, five days a week. That came close to a cruel and unusual punishment in his book, not that anyone had asked him what he thought. He should have done what he wanted to last year and stacked up his classes, done some independent studies. If he'd done that, if he'd followed his gut and stopped thinking about staying with his best friend and brother, he could have graduated at the end of the last year.

The Nogitsune had been surprisingly good at keeping up with his schoolwork. The months he had been possessed wouldn't have even been a problem.

Instead he had to go back to that stupid building and sit with his stupid friends who might hate him and he would be completely without his wolf. Peter had started patrolling again which meant _more_ time that they would be apart. More time to think and feel and get lost in the dark where there was something behind the door but he wasn't going to open it, he wasn't he wasn't he wasn't and no riddle could make him get up and let whatever was lurking in the dark in--

A hand settled heavily on the back of his neck, jerking him out of his spiralling thoughts. Beyond that initial jump he settled quickly, finding an amount of comfort in the gesture that most people would probably think was crazy. Life with Peter had taught him otherwise though. Now it nearly topped his list of 'Things That Calm Stiles Down', coming in right after hugs from his dad or Peter. Even though the one currently grounding him was Chris and not his wolf... well, that didn't really change anything.

"Awful calendar you have there - I'm surprised they printed the thing. Miss Maisy's collection of wax figures should never get this much exposure."

As far as excuses went it was a pretty shitty one, at least when it came to why he was about to have a panic attack. Stiles still grabbed onto it with both hands and ran with it. "Yeah. One time I tried to burn 'em. I should have gotten a medal for doing a public service, not thrown into jail for an hour."

"I would have thought your dad would let you stew longer than that."

"He would have, but I picked the lock on my cuffs and the cell and Terry - the guy at the front desk that night - had a soft spot for me. Dad kinda forgot to have me finish serving out my sentence. He was… otherwise occupied, you could say."

"Ah." Chris didn't push for more from the story, because Chris was kind of awesome that way. He just gave Stiles' neck a soft squeeze and left it there without breaking the silence again. Some days he could believe the Hunter didn't blame him for everything; every once in a while he even thought Chris might like him.

"I bet Peter would help me destroy them if I asked."

"Kid, Peter would destroy the _world_ if it was you asking him to."

"Yeah."

"... do they do one of these horrible things every year?"

"Yup. New one comes out at the end of September. I think this time the theme is 'Unusual Lawn Ornaments of Beacon Hills'."

"Fuck. You guys get one every year?"

"Yup."

"And it goes on the fridge?"

"Yup. Every year."

"So I have that to look forward to. Good to know."

It wasn't the thought of that stupid calendar that had him grinning. It was knowing that Chris planned on being around long enough to see the one for next year and maybe the year after that - every year, maybe. That was... pretty damn amazing. "Doctor's appointments have to go on there - and you better have a doctor, Chris, or so help me - and if you're going out of town or you have some fancy thing for work. Birthdays too. Anything really."

"We had one, before--" Chris choked on the words and Stiles gave the man his own moment of silence. "More than one. Vicky insisted. She was the only one allowed to write on them. Ally hated it. She would have... she would have liked this one better."

There wasn't really anything he could say to that, not really. Not anything that meant anything at least. So he ignored the part of himself that was writhing and screaming in guilt and self-loathing to turn around and wrap Chris up in a tight hug. It was returned immediately, and hugs from Chris could probably come in at a solid fifth on Stiles' list. Maybe... maybe he would be okay even if Peter wasn't around as much and even if his dad still worked a lot. Even if he didn't deserve Chris' kindness or forgiveness, it looked like he was getting them anyway. Eventually they gave each other a few pounds on the back and pulled away.

"Dad's at the station... I'll cook us some burgers while you write some shit on the calendar. No pencils either. Stilinski's live and die by ink, like men." Chris' soft laugh trailed after him as he went to start up the grill. It was kind of nice to feel... okay. Not great, not awesome, but not _bad_.

And fuck, after the last two years he’d had, Stiles would take it.

***

Stiles had been researching the Fae for a couple of hours before his phone mercifully let him know he had gotten a text message. Most of the time had been spent slogging through the Argent's Bestiary. Even if Chris _had_ given them a translated copy it was still a bitch to try and read. A lot of that came from trying to sort what tiny kernels of truth were buried beneath the pile of bigoted bullshit that took up most of the page. Hunters were a lot of things, but unbiased was not one of them. And when it came to Faeries, whoever had written the Argent's Bestiary didn't even seem to believe they were real. It had been a frustrating exercise, and when a quick Google search didn't turn up any golden nuggets he should have gone right to Peter's books.

Except that Peter had _said_ to do that, and he'd done it in front of Chris. His wolf had only done it to make the ex-Hunter's jaw go tight which was both unhelpful and unnecessary. None of them were perfect, but that never made Peter even hesitate before he started slinging stones at Chris. Next time he was just going to say something instead of forcing himself to read the same drivel over and over and over and over...

Thankfully his cellphone friend, whoever it was, had saved him from trying to force the words to make sense. He went so far as to slam his laptop closed, because fuck that noise. He deserved a round of COD after that nightmare. Stiles was already on his feet and halfway to his door before he realized _who_ had texted him. Immediately he went back to his bed instead, plopping down with a grin.

**Stiles.**

_Sourwolf!!_

While he couldn't actually see Derek's face, Stiles was sure the werewolf was rolling his eyes, eyebrows heavy with good natured judgement. He liked to think the guy had that tiny smile tugging at his lips, the one that happened when Derek found something amusing despite himself. That almost-smile hadn't made a lot of appearances in Beacon Hills, but it had shone through every once in a while, usually when Stiles was making an idiot of himself. Now that Derek was away from the place that had taken so much from him, Stiles liked to think it happened more often. Hell, he hoped the Sourwolf was somewhere warm and sunny, sipping drinks and smiling for real.

It wasn't likely, but Stiles was allowed to dream.

**Are you ever going to stop calling me that?**

_Never! What's up?_

Stiles didn’t really talk about it to anyone, but he and Derek had been texting ever since the wolf had left. Derek had slipped him a cell phone number before hopping into his Camaro and taking off. Stiles hadn't expected much to come of it, but he had been proven wrong. They didn't talk every day or even every week at the start, but they had checked in with each other regularly. 'How are you' and 'fine' had been about the extent of it even if they both knew that neither of them was anything even approaching 'fine'. It had been a small point of connection, something to hold on to while he was drowning and still ignoring the lifeline Peter had been offering him.

It wasn't until Stiles had sent a small admission at two in the morning that things changed. 'I'm not okay', he'd told Derek while shaking and shivering in his bed, counting his fingers over and over and over and praying that his door would stay closed so the thing lurking in the dark wouldn't take hold of him again.

For some reason, that confession had been enough to open the floodgates. They had spent the rest of that night texting back and forth. Stiles knew that in the course of that conversation they'd said things they'd never told another living soul. He also knew they hadn't _really_ been friends before. There had been too much suspicion, hurt and fear between them. Stiles' continued loyalty to Scott even when Derek was right hadn't helped. Maybe they trusted each other in life or death situations and maybe they weren't enemies... but they hadn't been friends.

After their talk in the wee hours of the morning, Derek felt closer to family.

It hadn't fixed everything, but it had been a start. Two days later Stiles let Peter in through the window, and four days after that Derek stopped trying to force the whole family thing to work with Cora. Both of them were better off for it even if they'd never spoken of that night since. Now their text thread was littered with pictures, memes, and honest answers to the 'how are you' question.

He still hadn't told anyone how much they talked. It didn't feel like anyone else's business.

**Is everything alright there?**

_Yeah, considering._

_Beacon Hills, dude._

_It's relative, so I'm grading on a curve._

**Thank you for that helpful assessment, Stiles.**

_No problemo._

**Are you sure?**

_Dude. Missing people, new crazy creatures, Peter's an ass, almost everyone else is ignoring me._

_Kinda par for the course._

_Though school's starting up again. Yay._

_Why you asking, Sourwolf?_

**You can have everything you need to graduate done by the end of the fall semester. Stop complaining, stop stalling, and talk to your guidance counselor. I'm tired of having this argument.**

_Whatever. Why are you asking about how things are here?_

_Focus!_

**I just have this feeling.**

**Like maybe you and Peter might need me to come home.**

Stiles fumbled his phone, saving it from a screen-cracking fall only by tumbling off the bed himself. Derek had _never_ talked about coming home. Shit, he hadn't even thought the wolf considered Beacon Hills to _be_ home. There was a reason the guy was so sour - he'd lost everything twice in Beacon Hills.

And honestly? Stiles had hoped he would never have to come back. Dude deserved to have a break and that kind of thing never seemed to happen in the hell-hole that was their hometown.

_Hey._

_We can manage, okay?_

_You got out dude. You got OUT._

_I'm not gonna be the one to drag you back here._

**You're not dragging me.**

**You didn't even ask.**

_Don't come back because of me or Peter is all I'm saying._

**I just feel like it's time.**

**And it's not all about you, Stiles.**

_We're not going to turn you away, but fuck._

_You deserve better than Beacon Hills, man._

**You two are the closest thing I have to pack.**

**I'm ready to try that again. I think.**

_Awww. Sourwolf._

**Shut up.**

**I'm not promising anything. I might leave again.**

**I just have this feeling that I should be there. For now. To check in on all of you.**

_Well we're not gonna turn you out._

_But you aren't allowed to stay at the loft._

_That's the rule. No living in the loft. That place has some seriously bad mojo and memories._

**I'm not buying another building Stiles.**

**I don't even know how long I'll be there.**

_So stay here._

_Dad'd love that. He asks about you all the time._

_Pretty sure he likes you better than me._

**He does not. And I don't want to impose.**

_Dude. If you do not stay here we of the Stilinski household will be offended._

_Mortally._

_Dad and Chris will end up sobbing into each other's shoulders._

_I'll have to be creative in expressing my own outrage._

_Very creative._

**I get it Stiles.**

_Peter will help me._

**Stiles!**

**I've got it.**

_So you'll set up camp at Casa de Stilinski?_

**Since I don't have a choice.**

_Sure don't._

**Thanks.**

_When do you think you'll get here? Gotta stock up on supplies._

_You wolves eat like crazy._

_We make Peter pay for groceries now that he eats with us all the time._

**Good.**

**And maybe a week. Maybe two. Depends.**

_Sounds sketchy._

_Are YOU okay?_

**I'm fine.**

**Just a little removed from civilization. So it depends.**

_Gimme a shout if you need us to come get you._

_Especially if it gets me out of the first couple days of school._

**You're going to school Stiles. Talk to your guidance counselor.**

_I will. Probably. Or maybe I'll just drop out and be Peter's kept man._

**Stiles.**

_Why does everyone say my name like that?_

**I didn't say anything.**

_I know you didn't say it._

_Fuck you for typing faster._

_And I heard how you THOUGHT it._

_Smartass._

**Idiot.**

_I miss you too Sourwolf._

**Whatever. See you soon Stiles.**

_Stay safe, big guy._

**You too.**

Maybe Derek would stick around this time; maybe he wouldn't. That didn't really matter as much as the fact that he was coming back at all. He cared about whether or not Stiles and Peter needed him, which was something. Hell, he was even almost willing to call them pack. So if he showed up in Beacon Hills for a few days and then needed to split again, that was still awesome.

Now he just needed to make sure they had a room put together for Derek. He'd have to talk to his dad about that, because there was no way the idiot wolf would take a room of his own if it put anyone else on the couch. So they'd have to do some shuffling or something, maybe get a pullout bed for the living room the way Kira had suggested. Whatever, they'd figure it out. He knew that both his dad and Chris would be genuinely happy to see Derek again. They'd be happy to have him around.

Getting _Peter_ to behave was another matter completely.

***

"So I have some news." Stiles fidgeted as his dad turned away from the fridge to stare at him, eyes narrowed. "It's not bad news! Probably. I don't think you'll think it is, anyway. I hope not, because it's actually good news. I think it is at least, and I really hope you feel the same way."

"By now you could have told me what it is," his dad pointed out with a grin. It was progress the way he hadn't immediately assumed someone was dead. Stiles was all for growth, even if it was kind of weird seeing his dad so mellow. Especially since, as far as he could tell, his dad and Chris weren't even sleeping together yet. Despite the condoms and lube Stiles had bought them as a gesture of good will, the two old fogeys seemed happy to just cuddle all the time. It was kind of sweet and definitely gross, but at least his dad was a lot less tense and grim.

"Derek's coming back to town."

"That is good news. Can you try not to accuse him of murder this time?"

"Oh my God. Dad. I only did that once and it was totally justified at the time. Scott's the one who pointed the finger at him that second time and Derek's totally over it. I think."

"Still. He's a good kid, so try not to get him into trouble."

"He's a _werewolf_ dad. He can handle a little bit of trouble."

His dad grunted and shut the fridge before leaning back against it. He looked thoughtful, one hand rubbing his chin while his other thumb hooked onto the belt loop closest to his gun. "He was living in that loft, wasn't he?"

Stiles just nodded, memories of the place flying too fast and thick to allow him to speak. Almost none of them were happy; the few good ones were tainted by events that had happened soon after. If he felt like that about the loft, he couldn't imagine what Derek would go through if he stayed there again. He had no doubt the wolf would still do it if given the chance, because the idiot seemed to like to flay himself open using the past. Fuck, he'd lived in the burned-out shell of the Hale house for months. The guy clearly could not be trusted to look after his own well being.

"You know, the attic would make a decent room for someone," his dad mused. It took Stiles a few beats to make the leap to their current conversation. "Garage too, now that I'm thinking about it. Don't think there's been a car parked in there since before your mother..." Both of them cleared their throat at the same time, and the awkward shuffle of his feet was mirrored by his father. "Anyway. It's time we cleaned them out, I think."

That was... huge. He had packed up all of his mom's stuff after she passed because his dad had been otherwise occupied. Stiles wasn't sure if his dad had _ever_ gone through any of it himself. They still kept it around though, stuffed into boxes as best as a ten year old could manage, gathering dust and taking up space to keep the Stilinski men from feeling too empty. To be honest, he had kind of expected it all to just sort of stay there forever, even after he and his dad were dead. That was where everything they had left of Claudia Stilinski had belonged for so long... and now his dad was ready to let them go.

Maybe that wasn't so surprising though. In the past couple of months new life had been breathed into the house. Chris and Peter were there most of the time, and he and his dad were both around more than they had been. Kira was in and out like a whirlwind and now Derek would be joining them too.

They didn't _need_ his mom's ghost anymore. It was finally time to let her go.

"Yeah?" The word was all he could allow himself, emotions clogging his throat. Besides - there was so much that they'd never talked about, and he was afraid that if he started it would all come spilling out. They weren't ready for that yet.

"Yeah. Chris has mentioned that he has a storage locker that he got before he left for France. He kept a lot from..." his dad trailed off, eyes far away and his mouth trembling just a little. "Your mom's things will be in good company."

"Pictures."

"What?"

"We need... we need pictures. Of her. And of Mrs. Argent and... and Alli--" Stiles' voice failed him, and his dad immediately pulled him into a tight hug. "And maybe I'll try to dig up some of Erica and Boyd. We shouldn't forget any of them."

"No," his dad agreed, sounding just as choked up as Stiles felt. "No we shouldn't. I'll ask Chris if he's alright with seeing Victoria and Allison. His grief is fresher than ours."

"I should ask Derek too."

"That's a good idea son. Ask him if he'd rather have the attic or the garage too - whatever he picks is the room we'll start with."

"Yeah. Okay. When do you wanna..."

"I'll take this weekend off of work. You and I can... we'll take care of your mother's things. I'm sure the others would help us with everything else. We'll need to get furniture... I hope Derek doesn't mind mismatched, second hand stuff."

"Uh, you saw the loft, right? And remember that he was living in the old Hale house before that. Mismatched furniture is the least of the big guy's problems when it comes to home decorating. If we can get him sleeping in an actual bed, daddio, I am going to be so proud of us." His dad snorted - he wasn't sure if that was agreement or laughter - and gave him one last squeeze before letting him go. "So, uh... why are we doing both rooms? Not that it's bad! Just... you and Chris aren't going to be sleeping separately forever. One extra room seems like enough."

"First of all," Stiles was fucking delighted by the blush he could see on his dad's cheeks. "Chris and I aren't in any rush, so stop pushing us. Second, even if he did decide to start sleeping in my room, he would still need a space of his own. We'd convert his bedroom into an office of some kind, probably. Thirdly... well. You're in this supernatural shit-show, aren't you? You and your friends, even if all of you are too damn young for it. You know what that means?"

He had an idea, and he hated that it was enough to choke him up all over again. Even then, he still wanted his dad to _say it_ , put it out there where the universe would hear it. Stiles wanted that tangible promise even if he didn't deserve it.

"What's it mean?"

"Means that I'm in this supernatural shit-show right along with you Stiles. I haven't been... I didn't handle it well, when you told me. Still not happy with the lying and that damn well better have stopped, but I... well. I should have believed you, I should have listened, and me not doing either one fast enough was why you, Scott and Allison did what you had to do. That's partly on me, kid, even if you won't believe it. You got _hurt_ because I didn't handle this well, because I wasn't in it even though you are. Now I am, and that's where I'm gonna stay. Derek isn't going to be the last stray we need to take in, I'm sure. If not that, maybe Kira or somebody else gets hurt and needs a place to stay for a few nights. We've got the space, and I'm pretty sure that's what pack's supposed to do."

"I think maybe it is. Are you--"

"If you ask me if I'm sure, I'll ground you for a week."

"Pfft. You couldn't keep me in my room back before I had a werewolf who would bust me out."

"I think Peter would listen if I asked him to keep you in the house for a few days, what with me being his future father-in-law and all."

His dad was out of the room before Stiles could recover from _that_ little quip, and since when the hell did his dad make quips anyway? Chris and Peter were bad influences, that much was clear. He was going to have to put a stop to this pack bullshit ASAP to make sure his dad went no further down the path of evil and witty banter. Beacon Hills would never survive a Sheriff with those traits.

But Peter was pretty fucking clear in his devotion, a thought that warmed him from the inside out and turned his cheeks red. His dad had been kind of right, and the way that didn't freak him out was kind of freaking him out. He and Peter weren't inevitable or anything, and he was pretty sure his wolf would back right the fuck off if he even hinted at wanting that... but they were heading down a road together that might end with them being married. Which was a little scary - mostly because it didn't freak him out - and also a little exciting and a lot confusing. It was a good thing he didn't need to be ready to think about it too hard yet.

For the second time in as many days, Stiles felt _okay_.He had his wolf, and Peter would stay through anything unless Stiles asked him to leave. Chris was going to stick around, Derek was coming home for at least a little while, Kira was bringing over 'Tangled' in the morning, and his dad was fully committed to weathering the ‘supernatural shit-show’ Stiles had landed himself in. Even the thought of facing Scott and the rest of his pack didn't seem as intimidating as it had only a few weeks ago.

Hope was sort of brave and a lot stupid in a place like Beacon Hills, and he didn't let himself have it often. But he had spent _so long_ feeling like he was drowning while everyone watched. He'd had so many sleepless nights and too many missed meals; he'd cried until he threw up and screamed until his throat was raw and aching. In the past few months, he'd paid his damn dues.

So he let himself hope that the 'okay' feeling was going to stick around, even once he started his mostly Peter-free days of school.

***

"So Derek is coming home?"

Kira sounded downright perky, which was an interesting counterpoint to Peter's scowl. It had totally been a brilliant stroke of genius and also kind of devious to tell both of his shifters about the news at the same time. He'd just been worried about the way Peter would react, and he'd noticed his wolf was a lot more... restrained around their newest pack member. Maybe now that he had to worry about how Kira was going to react to his reaction, he wouldn't be a complete douche.

Maybe. He was still scowling a lot, and Stiles was pretty sure he could see just a hint of fang.

"Yeah. For a while anyway - he's not sure if he's gonna stick around or not."

"Of course he isn't," Peter huffed, voice just shy of contempt. "My dear nephew--"

"He was the first one who told me I was a kitsune!" Kira interrupted, beaming like the happy and precious cinnamon roll that she was. Peter immediately bit back whatever he had been about to stay; Stiles nearly burst out laughing at how it made his wolf look constipated. "And he was always really nice to me. When we were going around trying to figure out why..." she trailed off, but Stiles wasn't going to get sucked into those thoughts, he wasn't. He wasn't going to think about the power station or Barrow or riddles in the dark of his mind or doors that he wasn't going to get up to check--

Peter's hands covered his, stopping the way each finger was tapping in order - he'd been counting without even knowing it. Before the sob he could feel building in his throat tore it's way out, Peter had both hands wrapped in his larger ones. He was so warm and solid, so _real_. Even without the shift, his eyes seemed to glow blue and stayed locked on Stiles' while he slowly counted out both their fingers. They both had ten, so it was probably real and he probably wasn't about to get locked inside his own body again. The breath he let out was too intense and shook too much, but neither of the others said anything about it. Peter just pulled him in and hugged him tightly while Kira moved from the computer chair to the bed.

She didn't cuddle up to Peter, but she did settle close to them and put a soothing hand on Stiles' back. Because she was amazing, she carefully tapped each finger against his shirt, then brought up her other hand to do the same so he could count that she also had ten of them.

"Derek was always really nice to me," she said, voice soft. Stiles could kiss her for not making his mini panic a big deal, but Peter probably wouldn't like that too much. "It was probably stupid because I didn't know him that well and he didn't really know me, but I felt safer when he was around."

"He's a good Beta." The admission wasn't even grudging, and Stiles was impressed with his wolf. "Even without a proper pack to belong to, Derek is still a good Beta. You were safer when he was still in Beacon Hills. Safer than with _Scott_ anyway, who couldn't manage even to be a Beta properly and now that he's a _True Alpha_ \--"

"You were doing good right up until the end there, zombie-wolf. You were so close to getting that right."

"When will he be here?" Kira was a blessing, what with the way she could keep a conversation going and cut right through Peter's growly moments. "We should throw a party! No, not a party," she interrupted before he could do it for her. "He'd probably hate that a lot and I want him to know we're happy he's back, not plotting to annoy him. Does he like cookies? I can bake cookies. Sort of. I mean, the pre-made dough counts doesn't it? I'm still doing the baking, just not the stirring."

"It... counts."

"Then why are you making that face at me? Would it look like I don't care if I don't actually do the stirring and the measuring? Because I'm really bad at those parts. I want the cookies to taste good, not make him run away again. ... would you be upset with me if I gave you cookies made from pre-made dough?"

Watching Peter try to work that out was really fucking funny. His wolf clearly disapproved of cookies made that way, and from most people he would probably find it a mortal offense. Anyone who tried to serve him something like that would be lucky if they only got a snarl and a look of utter disdain; Stiles wouldn't be surprised if someone Peter didn't like ended up being maimed.

But this was _Kira_. Peter thought of her as pack and that made all the difference.

"I wouldn't be upset, no."

"Would you eat them?"

Peter's expression melted in the face of Kira's audible anxiety. Nobody would believe him if he told them how completely _soft_ his wolf was on the inside.

"Of course I would eat your cookies," he said in a gentle tone that only made sense after seeing him interact with people he thought of as pack. "And I'm sure they would be delicious. But if you want I could help you make Derek's favorite. Since this is a special occasion."

"Really? You'd do that for me?"

Just like that, most of Stiles' anxiety melted away. Peter couldn't help being a jerk sometimes (most of the time) - it was just who he was. But it didn't mean he didn't care, and Stiles knew that he _did_ care about Derek, just like Derek cared about him. There was just too much shit between them for them to be comfortable showing that. So he was right to expect snapping, snarling and snide comments - that wouldn't stop entirely.

But Peter didn't want to scare Kira - he wanted to be _better_ for Kira. So it wasn't going to be as bad as it could be, and he had a feeling that his wolf was going to do his best to show some kind of restraint. Maybe that would only happen as long as the kitsune was actually in ear- and eyesight, but it was something. It was a start, and he hoped that Derek would follow that lead.

And if seeing the way Peter reacted to Kira always made Stiles fall a little bit in love with his wolf, that was nobody's business, not even Peter’s.

Not yet at least.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!
> 
> So this chapter doesn't have a double POV and it's a little shorter than the others. I have SO MUCH PLOT and stuff to get through in this fic, and I have realized that I will need quite a few more chapters than I had planned on in order to keep it coherent and not rush it unduly.
> 
> This will involve a restructure of a lot of the things I've already written out/planned, which is going to take some time. :'D So here is a taste of Derek before this fic enters a period of radio silence to get it all straightened out.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading and for all of your kind words so far!! <3

The town of Beacon Hills hadn't changed much since Derek's childhood, not really. Despite all the disappearances and disasters, even with the crazy shit that happened regularly, the place mostly just kept plodding on. Somehow the same businesses were always there, not going closing down even if they did change hands. There were faces that seemed exactly the same as ones he remembered from way back when. Maybe some people moved to or away from the town, and maybe a few family lines died out here or there, but even the makeup of the last names around town were suspiciously similar to the ones that had always been there.

The Preserve, on the other hand, felt completely different than the last time Derek had left.

Something new, exciting and dangerous buzzed in the air and through his bones. The leaves shivered even when the wind wasn't touching them, and there were strange calls echoing through the air that he'd never heard. His wolf wanted to howl, wanted to run and hunt; that part of him was convinced that if he just tried, he could push past the beta shift and become a full wolf. The man in him was worried that if he did, he would never find his way back to his two-footed form.

Once beyond the tree line he didn't go all the way to what was left of the old house. If Stiles even suspected he'd gone first there would be hell to pay. Derek could feel his lips twitch a little at the thought, fighting against the default non-expression he had long since conditioned himself to wear. Stiles was… something, that was for sure.

The teen wasn't the only reason he had come back to Beacon Hills, but he was probably the biggest. There'd always been something there, something that the wolf in him had responded to from the beginning. It was Stiles that he'd gone to when wounded, poisoned and dying, and it was Stiles that he'd asked to cut off his arm. He could still see the pasty shade of green Stiles had turned, and he'd never forget seeing the boy's shoulders square as he prepared to do it anyway.

Dealing with Stiles as an Alpha had been more challenging, but only because he didn't know how to bring the brilliant boy into his pack. Scott had been fighting him so hard that he had been tempted to cut the new Beta loose entirely, let him deal with the Hunters and other dangers on his own. But with Scott went Stiles' nation, at least back then. As frustrating and idiotic as Scott and his suicidal crush had been, getting him meant getting the smart, vicious boy who had already seemed half-wolf. Derek had done his best to put up with every stupid stunt, every childish, selfish tantrum, because he had hoped his stubbornness would be rewarded. He had hoped that Stiles would realize he and his best friend needed a pack and that Derek’s was the best choice.

It was just that the human he coveted was also a little shit who was good at pressing all his buttons. He hadn’t known how to handle that, how to prove he had worth. He had kept messing it up, kept hurting Stiles or watching as his pack hurt the boy. Derek didn’t blame him for not swooning over his skills as Alpha enough to join them.

Like his uncle, he and his wolf knew that Stiles' loyalty was something precious that needed to be earned. He had never been able to capture it when he'd been the Alpha, not completely, but Stiles had still helped him and his pack whenever they needed it. He had never failed to be there even when nobody else was. The pool where the scrawny-looking teen had held him up for two hours, the loft after Boyd’s death, a visit made after their last encounter with Gerard just to make sure he was okay… the list went on. He wasn’t sure anyone knew just how often Stiles had dropped by under the pretense of being snarky so he could check in and make sure Derek and his pack were as okay as anyone could be in Beacon Hills.

His wolf had never forgotten that, never forgotten that Stiles was always there when he didn't have to be. So maybe he had felt the tug of 'home' little more keenly in the last few weeks, and maybe he did want to check up on Uncle Peter… but he could have ignored both things. Beacon Hills had come to mean nothing but pain, and even his wolf was leery of answering the call of the land or family. But for Stiles?

He could go back for Stiles and the vague sense that the teen might need him to be there.

The tales of Fae returning to the Preserve along with that vague impression of possible danger had lured Derek to the border of the trees. He didn't dare venture too deep, not alone, not without any kind of understanding with them or an iron weapon to help keep him safe. Some Fae were known to enjoy the taste of the blood of born werewolves. Even those who weren’t malicious wouldn't hesitate to trick or harm him if he overstepped any boundary…. and he didn't know what those boundaries were.

He had gone strictly to get a read on the place. What he found was unsettling but not unexpected. There was a presence among the trees that wasn't quite threatening, not yet. It was just very obviously there in a way he hadn't felt since before the fire. Before Paige even, back when he was just a little kid and his mother was still finding her feet as an Alpha.

Stiles wasn't worried enough, he decided as he headed back to his car. He'd been pretty dismissive of it all in his conversations with Derek. Of course, he was dismissive of most things on the surface. There was more to his thoughts than he ever shared, but even knowing that… Derek still knew that Stiles was nowhere near as concerned as he should be.

He was going to have to play nice with Uncle Peter until they got the situation under control. He hated and loved the man, and it varied by day which emotion was stronger. But until this was settled, until Stiles was safe, Derek knew he was going to have to keep a lid on all of that. He'd never been willing to do it before, back when he was Alpha and then reeling from the loss of a second pack and that spark of power. It hadn't been worth it, and they'd stayed together other only out of necessity and habit. He hadn't been able to look past the anger and hatred long enough to settle anything with Peter. He just hadn't been ready, hadn't been able to even entertain the thought of having any kind of real connection with his uncle.

But Peter had attached himself to Stiles and the arrangement seemed to be helping the teen… so he was going to have to find a way to bury the hatchet. For Stiles he would learn how to coexist with Peter.

~.~.~

Derek hadn't called or texted Stiles to let him know he was back in town, but the teen was still waiting in the driveway with a huge grin on his face when he pulled in. It was enough to quiet that little voice in the back of his mind that was always whispering about how alone he really was. Proving that voice wrong was easy when his friend was almost vibrating with happiness to see him again. It was hard to believe that Stiles pitied rather than liked him when the teen was on him the second he had shut the door of the Camaro.

He hid a smile in Stiles’ shoulder while they hugged, unwilling to let any possible spectators know how happy he was in the moment. Happiness had never been something that lasted in his life. It would be all too easy for someone to steal this from him too, and sometimes he hated himself for being so attached to the frustrating, fascinating teen. People and things Derek loved ended up destroyed or dead. If he really cared about Stiles he would turn tail, run away and never come back.

It was harder to remember that with Stiles’ scent in his nose and his hands enthusiastically pounding on Derek’s back though. The wolf in him was practically flashing its belly, something he would never, ever tell another living soul. He wanted to grab onto it though, the feeling of safety and belonging - of _home_. If he could, Derek would wrap it around him like a coat or maybe a suit of armor; if it were possible, he would use it to protect himself from the rest of the world.

Unfortunately the feeling faded fast once Stiles was out of sight and his scent was lost to the wind.

”Sourwolf!”

”I will bite you.”

”I’ll like it.” A threatening growl interrupted their banter, but Stiles only snorted. It was hard to stifle the need to growl back at his uncle who was lurking in the doorway like a thundercloud. If he'd still been Alpha he wouldn't have hesitated… but Derek knew that he was a few bad days away from being a true Omega. He and Peter were far more evenly matched in strength these days, and a fight between would only leave them both too weak to protect the one thing left that they agreed on.

That added to the way amusement and affection bloomed in Stiles' scent kept his metaphorical hackles from raising too far.

“Peter might try to rip your face off after, but I’ll protect you big guy.” It was a loss, but he let Stiles step back to end the hug. “I should be really angry with you for coming back to this shit-show, but fuck. It’s good to see you Derek. Rest of the pack’s already inside.” Even if the label hurt as much as it made his heart swell, something in him decided to - tentatively, cautiously - think of the Stilinski’s and Peter that way. Maybe. “Except for Peter of course who's a big ol’ worry wolf. Let him carry your bags and come on in."

The way Stiles paused before his brows suddenly narrowed meant trouble for someone. He just hoped it wasn't him. Arguing with Stiles was almost never worth the effort, not unless it was something you enjoyed. Peter had certainly seemed to like picking fights with him.

"You had better have some fucking bags, Sourwolf." It was reflex to roll his eyes - the teen was ridiculous.

"I have bags, idiot." To make a point he reached into the front seat to grab one of his duffel bags and tossed it at the teen. The slight wheeze Stiles made when he caught it was deeply satisfying, and he made sure to flash his fangs when he grinned. "And anyway what are you, my mother?" If Peter thought snarling at him was going to intimidate Derek, he had another thing coming. Stiles would probably smack his uncle on the nose with a newspaper if he tried anything worse than that.

"Okay, one - what the fuck do you have in this thing?"

"Weights." Books, actually, but nobody needed to know that.

"You're a liar and a menace. Fine! Keep your secrets, see if I care. Second thing is that you need to get your furry ass into the house, because our pack is waiting with surprises. Happy surprises, promise."

"I made John frisk Christopher for weapons," Peter commented as he finally stepped off the porch to join the common rabble.. "They both enjoyed it far too much, but I believe it was successful in separating Argent from all his weapons."

That was another thing Derek was going to have to get used to. Chris wasn't all that bad - they'd worked well together during the Nogitsune mess, after all. But he was still an Argent, and sometimes he saw Kate in the curve of the man's smile or Gerard in the hard set of his jaw. There was so much history, hate and fear there; he wasn't sure he had it in him to ignore all of it. He didn't think Stiles or the Sheriff would ask that of him though. Not with Peter so clearly still holding on to his own grudge.

“Uncle Peter.”

“Derek.”

“Stiles.”

It was both annoying and comforting to see his uncle react to Stiles with almost the same expression Derek could feel on his own face. Stiles was such an idiot, but it was enough to sap some of the tension between him and Peter. They shared a look of exasperation before his uncle wiped his face blank. For a moment they both just stared, and then Peter let out a sigh and held out his hand.

“Welcome back. I suppose.” Stiles cleared his throat, and it was priceless the way Peter immediately looked like he had been sucking on lemons. “It will be… nice. To have you here. For patrolling, of course. Assuming you decide to grace us with your presence for more than a week or two.”

“Peter!”

“It’s fine, Stiles.”

It was too. He understood completely that Peter would never forgive him, not really, for running after the fire. No matter how scared he and Laura had been, they shouldn’t have abandoned their uncle. They should never have left him wounded and defenseless where Hunters could easily find him. Without pack nearby his recovery had been agonizing and taken so much longer than it might have otherwise. Peter had every right to still blame him for that.

Just like Derek would never really forgive Peter for killing Laura.

Despite that history, Derek still took his uncle’s hand and gave it a quick squeeze. Their eyes met again, and he liked to think he could see some kind of understanding and maybe even affection in his uncle’s gaze. If it was really there it didn’t last long, but Peter had never been good at wearing his heart on his sleeve.

“Now will you get in there before Stiles spontaneously combusts? He’s been fussing for the past few days--”

“Excuse you, I have not been _fussing_ , you fucking ass--”

“And I know everyone is excited to see you again.” Why he’d said ‘everyone’, Derek didn’t know. He’d thought it would only be the Sheriff and Chris inside, but now he had a sinking feeling that maybe Scott, Lydia, Malia and Kira would be waiting to ambush him too. They wouldn’t even be that happy to see him, Scott would start his posturing and glaring, and he wouldn’t be able to slip out politely for a few hours at least. Not if he didn’t want to hurt Stiles’ feelings. “I’ll bring your things to the attic for you. And no, I will not go through his bags,” he added to Stiles, who had opened his mouth. “Honestly. Have a little faith, if you please.”

He made himself smile despite the low-key urge to flee he felt settle in his stomach. God, he should have told Stiles he didn’t want this to be a big deal. He didn’t want a party, didn’t want to turn this into some huge welcome home gesture that would turn out to be meaningless once he left in a few months. He didn’t want to deal with the teen drama squad - he just wanted to relax and say hello to those few people who might actually, surprisingly, be pack.

Still, he forced himself to keep smiling when he followed Stiles into the house. It was probably more of a grimace, but anyone who expected more from him was clearly a moron and that wasn’t his fault. People and talking and the like just didn't come easily to him anymore. It was stupid to feel sulky that Stiles seemed to have forgotten that. It wasn't the end of the world and he'd made it through much worse. He just needed to suck it up and stop acting like such a pup.

Derek was so busy giving himself his ineffectual pep talk that he didn't really notice that Stiles had already led him through the door. Not until John Stilinski was in his space, smiling just as big and as warm as his son had. He didn't have time to tense up before a set of arms were wrapped around him for the second time that day, and damn but the Stilinskis had to have some kind of magic. The Sheriff's hug was almost as good, as _safe_ as the one he had gotten from Stiles. It was easy to relax into it, to tuck his face against John's neck and breath him in. His scent wasn't as familiar as Stiles', but it was still comforting and grounding… it still gave him that feeling of home.

"Hey there," John said into his temple, giving him a squeeze. He didn't seem fazed by the way Derek was scenting him - he hoped that meant the man was getting used to the idea of werewolves and the supernatural. "Good to see you again son." It wasn't fair, the way that made his throat go tight and left his eyes stinging a little.

"Good to see you too," he forced himself to rasp out. "Thanks for letting me stay."

"You'll always be welcome in my home Derek." And yeah, sure, Peter could hear John and so could most members of the teen drama squad if they were around, but the man was trying to keep the moment private, just between them. "That attic is yours now, you hear me? So you use it as long and as often as you want, and you decorate it however you want too. That's _your_ room."

"Yessir," was all he could manage, suddenly feeling small and young and like someone else actually wanted to look after him. He hadn't felt that way in years. It was almost enough to make him actually cry, but John was patient enough to let Derek hide in that hug until he'd swallowed that down and could face the world again.

Now he knew where Stiles got some of the things that drew in both him and his wolf.

He suddenly wasn't sure he'd be able to drag himself away in a couple months the way he had planned. Not if this was his welcome back, not when it felt like these two humans might really care. Itwas hard to let John go, but it helped that he waited until Derek stepped back himself before finally lowering his arms.

He caught Chris' scent before he saw the man, which meant he could give an actual greeting. Maybe it took him a couple tries to talk around the emotions lumped in his throat, but he didn't think anyone would mind that very much. "Hi Chris. Good to see you."

"You too." The Hunter didn't go in for a hug, and for that Derek was grateful. He didn't know how he felt about the guy and was reeling a little from all the contact he'd already gotten. People didn't usually touch him outside of fights anymore; he was going to have to ease himself back into accepting affection. So it was nice to have Chris clap a firm, heavy hand on his shoulder and give it a squeeze instead - it was less overwhelming. "How have you been doing?"

"Fine. Keeping to myself mostly."

"You? Not being the life of the party and making new friends wherever you go? I am shocked. Shocked and appalled, I tell you!"

"Give it a rest, Stiles."

"Listen here, Sourwolf--"

"Sorry! Sorry, I didn't know he was here already and so I was decorating the thing and now I missed all the saying hellos and I'm late. I'm sorry." Kira was there, smelling like ozone, rain and embarrassment… and also like chocolate. Chocolate and mint, actually, and she had a smear of green-tinted cool whip on the corner of her mouth, so Derek guessed she'd been tasting more than decorating. He shouldn’t be hoping that he was going to get a taste of whatever she'd been making. It didn't matter if he'd just gotten back, that didn't mean it was for him. And anyway, if she was there then Scott had to be - even if he couldn't smell the True Alpha or the rest of that pack, Kira wouldn't be there on her own.

Would she? Stiles _had_ mentioned that she was around a lot more, so maybe…

While he was busy thinking, Kira had been coming closer without him noticing until her scent filled his nose and her face was only a few inches away from his - and most of those were down. Her eyes were wide and unsure, and her arms were spread wide like but hanging limply in the air.

"So I really would like to give you a hug, because I'm really happy you're back." She did? She was? "But I know we weren't like, close or anything and you probably don't even remember my name but you were super nice to me and you helped Stiles and you're pack so…" What? "Can I? Hug you?"

"Uh." Kira's smile wavered a little, and he felt bad for that. She was sweet, and she was asking which meant more than he could say. He still didn't really know what was going on or why she even wanted to give him a hug, but he thought he might let her anyway. Since she'd gone to the trouble of making sure he was okay with it and everything. Especially because she seemed to think they were pack - which again, what? - and he would hate for her to feel like a member of her pack was rejecting her. "You… can. Kira," he added because it was ridiculous of her to think she was so forgettable. She was a kitsune, for fuck's sake.

Her eyes lit up, like he'd given her the best present in the whole world. It made his cheeks feel a little warm because he wasn’t all that used to being the reason someone was happy. While Kira wrapped her arms around him he flipped Stiles - who was wearing a shit eating grin - the bird.

Her hug was different than a Stilinski hug, but still pretty… nice. It was nice, if a little uncomfortable. She was a little awkward, going so far as to meep quietly when he carefully hugged her back. She was also shorter than both Stilinskis, enough that her head tucked neatly under his chin to give him a nose full of her shampoo. It didn't last long, and when she jumped back her cheeks were tinged with pink. But she was smiling too, so Derek thought that maybe, all in all, it hadn't been that bad.

"I'm glad you're back," she told him again. It was kind of baffling; from the way Stiles was giggling behind one hand, he was sure that was written all over his face. "Gimme like, two more minutes and I'll bring out the cake, okay?"

"Cake?" he asked himself as he watched her walk away, hating how confused he sounded. He was supposed to be a stoic mystery, dammit, not a bumbling idiot. It took a little effort, but he wiped his face clean and settled back into his usual non-expression. He'd worked hard to develop the look and he wasn't about to give it up just because of some hugs and a cake that probably wasn't even a kind he enjoyed.

"Yeah. She was gonna do cookies, but then Peter told us how much you like Grasshopper Cake so she-"

"Grasshopper Cake?" He couldn't help the way his head snapped up at the information, or the step towards the kitchen that he took. The scents of chocolate and mint made sense now, and that green cool whip… God, if Peter had been helping her..

"Jeanie's recipe," his uncle called from halfway up the stairs, followed by a laugh like he knew Derek's mouth had immediately started watering. "And we made your Grandma Coraline's fudge topping instead of using store bought," he added. Derek didn't even care anymore that his uncle had probably gone through his bags. It was a price he was more than happy to pay if it got him a piece or twelve of that cake. "Kira insisted on making something you really enjoy. Once I talked her out of pre-made dough, anyway."

He was struck with the brief, horrifying urge to kiss Kira. There was no way Peter would have given him Grasshopper Cake on his own, sure, but she was just a kid. A good, sweet kid who apparently thought highly of him, but… none of that mattered.

"We already decided you get most of the cake," Stiles said while curling his fingers around Derek's forearm. "Give us each a piece and we'll be good. The rest is yours."

"Is it just you guys? Because if I have to share my cake with more than five people, I'll just take it and run instead." Stiles looked at him over his shoulder, then smiled warmly.

"Yeah Sourwolf. It's just us. Scott's pack wasn't invited - you can decide when to let him know you're back. I didn't think you'd want a big party or anything."

Derek wasn't sure how much Stiles actually knew about pack politics and werewolf instincts. He didn't know if Stiles was intentionally disowning Scott as an Alpha, if it was accidental, or if he thought that pack had already disowned him. Either way, it was very, very telling that 'Scott's pack' was different than the pack Stiles was claiming as his own. Maybe he shouldn't bring it up though - maybe it was an unspoken thing going on in Beacon Hills these days. Maybe he should just sit back and observe what the fuck was going on until it made a little more sense.

"I would have hated a big party," he said with a shrug of his shoulders, letting Stiles manhandle him onto the couch. It could have felt like too many people anyway, even with only five others in the house, but… well. Stiles and John's hugs had bolstered him, and he was still tingling from the one Kira had given him. Chris had known not to push too far into his space while Kira had asked and would have listened if he said no. Peter was bordering on being nice, and he knew without a shadow of a doubt that Stiles had his back. There was going to be Grasshopper Cake soon, and he could retreat up to his room whenever he needed or just wanted to.

"This is… this is perfect. Thanks Stiles. Everyone."

Stiles grinned while he sprawled out next to Derek, eyes practically glowing with happiness. "Welcome home Derek."

~.~.~

"I can hear you. Moron."

The clumsy stumbling through the underbrush happening behind him came to an abrupt halt. There was a follow-up of hushed whispering, which made him feel a little bad - Kira was there too. She was just an accessory to Stiles' idiocy, not the root of it. Plus if she thought the insult was actually directed at her, she would alternate between pouting and chewing on her lower lip all day, smelling unhappy. He didn't like when she smelled that way, not now that his wolf was half-convinced she was pack.

"Sorry. Moron and company. What are you two doing?"

Kira _was_ pouting when she came into view, but her eyes were sparkling at him and she smelled like rain-touched orange blossoms. That was acceptable, so he consciously let go of his usual stoicism to give her a small smile in return. Stiles was glowering though, expression darker than the situation really warranted. The teen was definitely up to something, and it clearly wasn't going his way.

"I'm trying to teach Stiles how to sneak."

"You. Are trying to teach Stiles. About being sneaky."

"Yes!" He arched a brow at her, but she giggled instead of changing her story. When the hell had he stopped being scary anyway? "Sneaky to Shifter ears, anyway. He's too used to fooling people with regular senses."

"So did you… did you think you were being sneaky? Just now?"

"Weren't we?" Kira's nose wrinkled while Stiles cursed and kicked at a nearby fallen log. "We were downwind and so I figured--"

"I have ears, Kira," he pointed out, not bothering to lift his brows from where they were heavily furrowed. She stuck her tongue out at him and suddenly it was hard not to grin again. "And you weren't downwind from me, which is kind of the point."

"But… downwind is downwind."

"That's not how this works."

"I read about it, Derek. Downwind is where you stand in the direction the wind is blowing." She was messing with him - he was ninety percent sure that she was messing with him. This had to be her and Stiles' way of asking for help when it came to this kind of thing. Had to be. If it wasn't he was going to have to leave town again on principle.

Only for a couple days though. He was going furniture shopping with John and Peter - who had promised to behave and might actually do so - on Friday morning. "So as long as we walk into the wind, nobody can smell us, not even werewolves. I read it on the internet, Derek, so it has to be true."

"That's not how any of this works."

"I know." Her laugh lit up the small clearing they were in, which was… dangerous. He still gave her a tiny smile before slanting a glance Stiles' way. Unlike Kira, Stiles was still swearing and muttering to himself. When she saw where his eyes were, she sighed and threw herself at their favorite human. Even in his funk Stiles still caught her and spun in a half-hearted circle; they ended up leaning against each other with her head tucked firmly under his chin. "Stiles thought we could be quiet enough to make up for it."

"Worked with Scott," Stiles muttered, swatting at Kira's hand when she pinched his side. "He believed that whole 'downwind' thing for almost a week."

"Scott isn't a born werewolf," Derek said instead of the million other more insulting things that came to mind. People didn't always believe it, but he was the most tactful Hale left. "I know how to use my senses better than he ever will. Plus I had… Cora wasn't the youngest. There was… there was a lot of hide and go seek and stuff like that in my pack growing up. Scent and hearing was an important part of that." His current pseudo-pack was amazing enough that they didn't comment on that. Stiles only gave him an understanding look while Kira reached out to brush her fingers over the sleeve of his leather jacket.

He still had to look away, the memories briefly too much for him to handle. To try and distract himself so he wouldn’t get surly, Derek turned his attention to the small bundle in his hands. He had helped put it together under his uncle's caustic direction just that morning in the vault. His mother had never put much stock in the old legends, but she'd never gotten rid of the things needed to leave Offerings either.

So Peter had pulled out an old box made of yew, one that had only seen a little shaping from mortal hands. Someone had added hinges and hollowed out a solid if gnarled section of branch about a foot long, then polished the wood until it shone. It made a great box that was natural enough to appeal to the sensibilities of most Fae… or so Peter had said.

Once he'd shoved it into Derek's hands, he'd told him to line the bottom of the box with feathers. He'd asked from what kind of bird, Peter had snapped at him to stop asking stupid questions, and he had fumed while picking out a few handfuls he'd thought were prettiest. His favorite were the ones that were brilliantly blue except where they were mottled with a soft grey. Meanwhile his uncle had found a small bottle made of cut glass and silver embellishments that nestled perfectly in one half of the box. It had been filled with hawthorn honey that glowed a light amber. In the other half Peter had put a black silk pouch filled with the bones of a crow.

'This should be enough to keep humans safe in the southern part of the Preserve for a week or so. It will take… more to negotiate the return of any who might still be alive.'

Maybe the effort was born from the desire to keep Stiles happy, but Derek still appreciated it.

"We're almost there. After we put this in that old oak tree… if you want… I could teach you both some things."

Making the offer was harder than it should have been. All he could think about as he spoke was Erica's vicious smile, the way Isaac's flinching away from affection had given way to shy pleasure, and Boyd's steady strength. His efforts to teach and train them had been for nothing and most of them had died because of his own incompetence.

He was a shit teacher and had no business giving any kind of tips about anything, but… well. Kira should learn from someone not afraid of their own gifts, and Stiles should know how to evade detection from werewolves. He would be a better teacher than Peter, surely, and they did need someone. There weren't any other shifters in their pack who could step up to the plate,so he was going to have to shoulder that burden no matter how unsuited for it he was.

And maybe, just maybe, he could manage to keep _these_ teenagers alive.

Kira's squeal of delight broke through his thoughts, and suddenly she was hugging him. It hadn't stopped being awkward even though it happened often. She still wasn't sure of her welcome (neither was he) and he still didn't know what to do with his hands (neither did she). He did like the way it turned her scent a little sweeter though, so he allowed it. When she bounced away Derek could feel warmth burning in his cheeks and Stiles was finally grinning again. He cleared his throat and turned away from the both of them, one hand lifting up to scrub at the back of his neck.

"This way."

It was going to be difficult, giving the teens the skills they would need. He knew he was impatient and not very good at communicating. He'd get frustrated and yell, or maybe he wouldn't be able to explain something right and they'd be the ones yelling. It would be work… and Derek was willing to try. His wolf had largely accepted the rag-tag group as pack, and he didn't… he didn't want to be alone again.

He wasn't like John, Chris or Peter - he didn't have the kind of experience or resources they did. He didn't have Stiles' intelligence or ruthlessness, didn't have Kira's sweetness or ability to mediate. He was just Derek - useless, gullible, worthless Derek Hale who had gotten two packs killed so far.

What pack would want him after everything that had been destroyed because of him?

So he'd put in as much work as he had to, do whatever needed to be done, so this new pack of his wouldn't cast him aside. Derek was pretty sure that he wanted to stay even after the mess with the Fae was resolved. He could prove himself, make himself useful enough to be allowed to do that out of more than pity. Teaching Kira and Stiles what he could about shifter senses and fighting would be a good place to start. It might keep them safe and alive too, which was even more important. Just as soon as they finished their errand, Derek would begin teaching his younger packmates.

He couldn't wait to hear the way Stiles would yelp and then bitch when he pounced.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I have all my ducks in a row for this fic!! I'm a pantser usually, so planning this out has been weird and probably not done as thoroughly as it should have been. :'D Still! I at least have sussed out the important plot points I want to include and can build shit up around that.
> 
> Sticking with the single POV for this, because I like symmetry and having only one chapter be like that would bother me endlessly.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!! Comments make my day and I'm going to be making a conscious effort to respond to them, promise!!

"So you don't really do much during the day, right?"

Chris swallowed the sigh rising in his chest, because Stiles wouldn't understand it came from a place of fond exasperation. Not from him anyway, not yet. The tightness around the teen's eyes suggested he was already close to fleeing as it was. One wrong word or gesture from him, one hint that Stiles could interpret in a negative way, and he'd be gone. Things between them were two steps forward one step back, Ally's ghost haunting the teen in a way his baby girl would hate.

"Not exactly. Running a business from home is still work. ... is this about school again?"

"It starts in two days!" Stiles burst out, paler and more tired than Chris had seen him since first coming back to Beacon Hills. "Two! They're all going to be there and they don't... Kira's going to have to choose which isn't fair. Last year after... after. Afterwards it took almost two months before I could sit with them without glares and silences and sad faces. Whenever Scott remembers I exist and invites me to a pack meeting, it's... it's different. I don't... if it's like that in school I don't know if I can be around them. But Kira deserves more than one friend, especially when that friend is--"

"You're an amazing friend," he broke in, the raw pain in Stiles' voice enough to make him ache too. "So if she really can only have one you're absolutely the best choice."

"She still won't choose me."

The whispered fear stopped him cold, and for a minute the only sound in the kitchen was running water. Once he could breathe again without wanting to shoot Scott McCall for all the ways he'd failed his best friend, he set down the bowl he'd been washing and turned off the faucet. When he turned to look at Stiles he finally did let that sigh go.

It hurt to see the tall young man trying so hard to look small. He was hunched over himself, shoulders pulled in so tight his ears were touching them and his neck had disappeared. Maybe it looked like he was playing with the cuffs of his plaid shirt but Chris wasn't fooled - the kid was counting again. The habit that had been showing up less and less was back with a vengeance now that Stiles' anxiety was skyrocketing. Almost every time they were in the same room Chris could hear him counting under his breath or saw his fingers moving in a rough, stilted pattern.

Peter was doing his best to be there while still pulling back a little. John had pointed out that it might be easier for Stiles if they started spending a little less time together to prepare for the days when they couldn't be together. It wasn't like the werewolf was going to be able to sneak into the school to give Stiles a hug when he needed one. Kira was going to be there for any panic attacks, not Peter; if the teen needed to count he had to be able to do it on his own. It was close to torture for both of them, for all of them really, but it had been comforting to know that at least Stiles would have a pack member close by to give him some support.

Hearing the teen doubt that she would stick with him hurt... but it also made him a little angry. Maybe it was time to stop walking on eggshells.

"Stiles--"

"Sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt. You were busy so you should get back to that. I'm fine, school will be fine and I'm sure my friends don't actually hate me. I'm going to go and--" Before the teen could dart away, Chris stepped forward and dropped his hand to the back to his neck. The kid gulped, eyes shutting tight while his body seemed to be unsure if it should tense further or relax.

"You're not interrupting and I think 'fine' might be overstating it. I can't homeschool you Stiles - your dad said no and anyway I don't think that's what's best for you. I know you're worried about what's going to happen at school with your friends, but you're going to be fine. Kira is not going to abandon you to hang out with Scott and his pack, I can promise you that much." 

Especially not with the way she'd been spending the nights at the Stilinski house again, doing everything she could to distract and encourage Stiles while the clock ticked down. He had a feeling things would get better again once school actually started up. The anticipation was killing Stiles and turning Peter even meaner than usual. If things _didn't_ get better, something else was going to have to give.

"You don't know that."

"That girl loves you like a brother and you're pack," he pointed out, letting just a little bit of a scold enter his voice. Stiles flinched but didn't pull away, which was a victory. "She's not going to leave you to any wolves other than Peter and Derek. You know that. I know you do. You're just letting--"

"I killed your daughter," the teen interrupted, voice harsh but otherwise dead. When their eyes finally met for the first time since the conversation had started, Stiles' were full of rage and self loathing. "You shouldn’t be so fucking _nice_ to me. Allison should be here, starting up her senior year just like the rest of us. She was supposed to be here, only I killed her--"

"No. You didn't."

"Yes I--"

"That Oni killed her Stiles, not you. It was--" His voice broke and he looked away, taking a few deep breaths to ward off the tears. Losing her would never not hurt and talking about her was still so damn hard. But he had put this off for too long, wanting Stiles to come to it in his own time. He needed the kid to understand that he didn't blame Stiles for any of it; all he wanted was for Stiles to forgive himself.

"It was awful and it was... it's unfair when the people we love die, Stiles. It's always unfair. And it would be so easy to blame someone for her being gone - Scott for dragging her into this mess in the first place, Lydia for not screaming soon enough, me for bringing her back here after her mother died. My father for... for so much. But you know what Stiles? None of that killed her. You didn't kill her. And if she knew how much you were killing _yourself_ like this she would kick your ass six ways to Sunday."

Stiles was crying, but he also let out a tiny, gasping laugh at that. "She could have too. She was always..." He started to collapse in on himself again, so Chris pulled him in for a tight hug, supporting his weight at the same time. The young man had been carrying the weight of the dead for too long and it was his turn to try and ease some of that burden.

"I know," he murmured into wild brown hair. There were tears trekking down his own cheeks and a tightness in his chest, but that was okay. He had loved Ally more than anything; it was right to cry over her sometimes. "She was something else. Too good for this town, just like you are. God, you both should have grown up somewhere where you could just be happy."

He felt Stiles shove his face against his neck and he briefly wished he could make the same rumbling noise that Peter did to try and soothe him as he wept. All he could do was squeeze the teen tightly in an attempt to hold him together. "I'm so sorry neither of you could have that. And I'm sorry she can't be here for this. She would have... she would have loved this pack, Stiles. Even if Scott is an Alpha and even if he was her first love... I think she would have chosen this too. It is not your fault she isn't here to do that."

"Yes it is," Stiles wheezed against his neck, entire body shaking. "It's... I let it in. Let _him_ in. If I hadn't--"

"Stop." He kept the command as gentle as he could, cupping the back of Stiles' head to keep him from pulling away. "I don't blame you and I don't hate you. And I'd give anything to have you believe that but I know that's going to take time. And I know that me and your dad are new and that maybe... but I'm going to be here for you, okay kid? Even if we don't work out, I'll still be part of this pack and I'll still love you. I've never hated you. Not for one second. It _wasn't your fault_."

Stiles' hands were twisting the fabric of his shirt in rough, violent movements as he sobbed. Chris kept crying right along with him, holding him as tight as he dared. This wasn't going to fix everything, not even remotely... but the teen hadn't run. He hadn't pushed away and fled, hadn't tried to distract him with sarcasm and circular talk. They should have had this conversation right after Allison had died, but late was better than never. Now he just needed to make sure they kept having it, needed to make sure to tell Stiles that it wasn't his fault.

If he kept saying it long enough maybe the teen would even start believing him.

He never finished the dishes, and eventually he and Stiles ended up on the couch side by side. Stiles was still sniffling, his face blotchy and his eyes bloodshot... but his fingers were for the most part still. His commentary on Chris' movie choice started out shaky but was soon full of piss and vinegar, a tiny smile on his lips. By the time Peter joined them he was even laughing, looking a little lighter, a little happier than he had before their talk.

For a while it made him happier too, until the weight of the secrets he'd been keeping began to make his own shoulders sag. He'd told the truth - he had never hated or blamed Stiles for what had happened to Allison. It was just that he hadn't told the whole truth about a lot of different things, not to Stiles or John or anyone else in the pack. It had made sense at the time, keeping some of it to himself. It was his business, after all, Argent family business and none of theirs.

Only that had been a lie he told himself so the shame wouldn't keep him awake at night. The Stilinskis had taken him in and done everything they could to make him feel welcome. John was... John was an unexpected but pleasant surprise that he didn't want to lose. He cared about Stiles, Kira and Derek, wanted them to be safe and happy. Even Peter wasn't as awful as he could have been, as he used to be. They all fit together even if they shouldn't, and Chris was quietly proud that they had allowed him into their midst.

He just wondered how long he would get to keep it all once he told them everything. Soon Stiles might be the one hating him, and he wouldn't blame either Hale if they ripped out his throat. Putting it off any longer would just make it all harder in the end. Once Stiles and Kira were back school and start making the arrangements he'd been hesitating to make. It was time, and once it was in motion he would tell Derek everything.

They deserved the truth from him, and he didn't deserve the way John smiled at him until he'd told it.

~.~.~

The soft knock on his door startled him out of his thoughts. He saved his work and eased off the glasses that let him know how damn old he'd gotten before shutting his laptop. Briefly he let himself wonder who had come to see him. Peter never knocked on the rare occasion they needed to speak, just swanned in like he owned the place. Stiles would knock and then throw his door open and Derek never came at all. John's knocks tended to be firmer, which meant…

"Come in Kira."

When she poked her head in, it was with a shy smile on her face and her hair pulled into a messy bun. He felt his expression soften almost immediately, and he shot her a smile that hopefully hid how tired he was. Her own turned more sure and then she eased the rest of the way into his room, shutting the door behind her. She was in her pajamas which meant the Disney sing-a-long portion of her sleepover with Stiles would be starting soon, if it hadn't already. He should probably head downstairs - the pizza would be on its way and they should all eat together. School was starting in the morning and Stiles was on edge. A pack dinner and movie night would settle him, hopefully.

"How'd you know it was me?"

"Hunters always know." Her giggle was disbelieving, and he smiled at her again. "Did you come to drag me to the living room, or is there something else I can help you with?"

"Both?" Kira always chewed on her lower lip when she was nervous, but the way she was rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet meant it was something serious. "I mean, we're going to start the movie soon, once Peter and Stiles have a couple minutes to themselves. He's... he's really worried about school and I'm really worried about him. Scott hasn't even mentioned him lately except to tell me not to tell him anything. So I don't know if..." trailing off, she shrugged helplessly before firming her chin. "But I also know that he isn't going to like it once he realizes that we smell like each other and that both of us smell like Peter. I can't bring my katana to school, or at least I can't unsheathe it where everyone can see. So I was wondering..."

He had a feeling he knew where she was going, and he was equally proud of her and sad for Stiles. Scott wasn't always a prime example of control and Peter Hale would always be a bone of contention for him. If he finally realized just whose scent was all over two of the people he considered his…

"Do you know how to use a taser?" Her face instantly turned a little pale, but she didn't look any less determined for it. He stood and headed for his closet to dig for one while he waited for her to answer.

"Yeah. I learned how to use one in New York. One of my friends had a really protective, paranoid dad. He taught both of us one year for our birthdays even though we weren't legally supposed to have one. My dad got pretty mad. Are they legal here?"

"Not in school, technically, but I know you won't use it unless it’s an emergency. We can get around the law if we have to. Having one with you during the day is probably the best idea - it's more discreet than a katana," he teased, something warm wrapping around his heart when she giggled again. She wasn't much like Allison, and he wasn't looking for a replacement for his little girl, but... he still had a soft spot for her. Especially since her own parents didn't seem to give much of a fuck what she did. "And you can have one of my stun batons too, if you'd like."

"I... I don't..." She already seemed unsure, and he wondered if she would balk completely if she realized they had been used on both Peter and Derek in the past. "I don't think I'll need one? I already hate this, and I don't... I'm not a Hunter. I don't want to hurt people with supernatural origins like me like that. No offense!"

"None taken. I'm not proud of everything I've done," in fact most of it made him want to throw up if he looked too closely. "And my family was never good at restraint. So we'll stick with the taser. Shouldn't need more than that anyway."

"Hopefully I won't need it at all. I just... I don't want Stiles to be hurt anymore." When he looked over his shoulder at her her own were slumped. She looked so worried that all he wanted to do was hug her. He settled for crossing the room to give her the taser, then settled one hand on her shoulder. Her smile prompted a quick squeeze and then he stepped back. "Thanks. Could you... can this be between us? Well, Sheri-- John should know maybe. But I don't want Stiles to be worried about it and Peter would be so… so _Peter_ about it."

He snorted at that, fully agreeing with her assessment. Peter was so damn dramatic about everything - it was a shame he couldn't realistically go into acting. He would have an Emmy and an Oscar in no time.

"What about Derek?" Her cheeks went rosy and she looked down at the floor, shrugging.

"It's okay if he knows, probably. Except he might want to tell Stiles."

"Then you can tell him if you want to. Otherwise it's between me, you and John."

"Thanks Chris. I'm gonna go put this in my backpack for tomorrow. By the time I come downstairs you had better be there too!" Her demeanor shifted to mischievous, eyes twinkling at him. "We're doing two Disney movies where everyone _will_ be singing. Tangled is first - I get to be Rapunzel," she added, smug in what had probably been a hard-won victory over the other teen. "I think Flynn is probably taken by Stiles, who's trying to get Peter to be Mother Gothel."

"Am I supposed to know who any of these people are?"

"You, John and Derek are so sadly behind on Disney movies. But don't worry! Stiles is pulling up the lyrics for the songs, so you should be okay."

Chris tried to tell himself that the only reason he was being suckered into this was because Stiles was so damn worked up about going back to school. He knew that was a lie though, knew he'd do a lot to make these kids smile after the year they'd had. It was a little scary, how far he'd go for them.

His eyes drifted to his laptop where he had an email waiting and an appointment time ready to be confirmed. They were all going to be furious with him after he came back. He should indulge them all as much as possible before then, get in all the pack time that he possibly could.

"Alright. I hope the second movie is something all us old farts know a little better."

"Beauty and the Beast! I thought it was very fitting."

"They're going to argue a lot over which one of them is the beauty." Kira's laugh lit up the whole room, and he couldn't help but smile again. She was so impossibly bright and he was thankful that she had decided to stick with Stiles. The house would be sadder if she hadn't joined their ragtag little pack, and they would probably have had to sedate Peter in order to send the other teen to school without a werewolf escort. "I'll head down in a minute. I have a feeling it's going to be one giant pajama party and I'd hate to be the odd man out."

"Okay! See you down there then. And Chris? Thanks."

~.~.~

Stiles had slammed into the house at exactly 2:40, front door hitting the wall hard enough to punch a hole in the plaster. He'd ditched his backpack and then ran upstairs before Chris could even say hello. Kira had entered shortly after, looking wan and unhappy. She'd murmured a quiet 'hello' then settled down in front of the TV. Even two hours later she had refused to budge... but she also hadn't tried to head upstairs either.

"Stiles needs some time," she had told him grimly when he suggested checking on the teen. Chris had figured she would know better than him, so he'd left it alone and pretended he wasn't worried. He had a feeling Kira was waiting for Peter’s okay; he was also pretty sure the wolf was already upstairs. There was no way he wouldn't have come running on learning that Stiles was in distress and the window might have been the quickest point of entry. As much as he wanted to know what the hell had happened, he kept biting his tongue every time the urge to ask hit. Eventually he would know, and since he figured he'd want to shoot Scott McCall as soon as he did... it was probably better to put off learning about Stiles' day until John was there to hold him back.

He had texted the man as soon as Stiles got home. There was still no reply, but he knew John was busy getting Derek squared away. The younger wolf had been pretty aimless since getting back to Beacon Hills. He had been surprised when John suggested making him a deputy but he also had hesitated for only a few minutes before agreeing.

Everyone in their little pack had been feeling the stress of the day. Eventually Derek's pacing had prompted John to drag him off to get all the paperwork in order. Now he was alone with two upset teens and a werewolf who was likely feeling homicidal and he had no idea what to do about it. Should he push? Should he keep leaving them alone?

Things had been simpler in France. Sadder, but simpler.

Thinking about France made him think of Isaac, and he wondered again if he'd done the right thing leaving him there. The teen had picked up the language quickly and the pack there had been more than accommodating... but sometimes he wasn't sure. Isaac kept in touch, sent him pictures and messages every day and he seemed happy. Happier than Chris had ever seen him, actually, even before Allison had died. So maybe it was for the best that he'd stayed behind. Maybe he would have chosen Scott's pack over the one that had formed in the Stilinski house and maybe that would have put a wedge between them.

Sometimes he still wondered if he shouldn’t have dragged Isaac back to Beacon Hills with him.

He was thumbing through Isaac's latest pictures when Peter finally stormed into the kitchen. The werewolf was growling, the sound not stopping once as he began to slam open cupboards and throw things onto the counter. Every motion he made was violent and full of lethal intent. Chris wasn't sure if he wanted to join him on a rampage or try to keep him from doing anything rash. Interrupting his quest for food would only end in bruises and blood, so he waited until Peter had taken his anger out on the vegetable he was chopping. Once his eyes weren't glowing anymore he figured it was as safe as it was going to get.

"Is he okay?"

"No." Peter's savage growl was expected but still raised the hair on his arms. "And if he wouldn't hate me forever I would kill McCall and that red-headed bitch for it. Malia was the only one to speak to him today. The True Alpha," he sneered while hurling the dirty knife into the sink. "Looked the other way every time he and Stiles were in the same room. Which wasn't often, thank fuck. It was often enough though, and the banshee was in all the same AP classes as Stiles. She could have..." Peter bit down on his lip hard enough that it started to bleed, not that he probably noticed. "Instead they ignored my boy. Heads should be _rolling_ for this. Instead he's locked up in his room crying and counting his fingers. I think for the first time he’s hoping that he’s dreaming."

Suddenly Peter slumped back against the closed fridge, entire body sagging. He didn't much like the wolf, would probably never trust him completely... but still. The man was pack and he loved Stiles fiercely. So despite his personal misgivings he crossed the room and carefully set one hand on Peter's shoulder. To his astonishment the man leaned into the contact instead of biting his fingers off.

"He’s come so far," he whispered, defeat in his voice. "He was doing better. He was so close to being happy and now..." He ran a hand through his hair, briefly tugging at the strands. "I know that he'll get there again. But to see him set back so far over _fucking_ Scott McCall makes me want to bathe Beacon Hills in his blood. Nobody in this town deserves Stiles. If I thought he'd stand for me kidnapping him and his father..." Peter's hand went to his face, covering it briefly before he rubbed his eyes. "They don't deserve him."

"Maybe not. He still cares about them."

"Which is the only reason they're still breathing."

"You know Kira can hear us, right?" It worried him in a way he wouldn't have thought possible a few months ago. There was no way the kitsune wasn't listening in, and she still cared about Scott's pack too. Peter had always tried to keep his more violent impulses under wraps to avoid scaring her off. It was a shame that his hard work was going down the drain. Even if Chris didn't think she would leave them over it, Peter would be close to inconsolable if she pulled away from him.

Apparently the wolf hadn't thought of that, because he bit out a curse almost too soft for his human ears to pick up. Then he visibly pulled himself together, a shudder going through him as he set his rage aside. It was something Chris hadn't expected, the way the wolf took their pack so seriously. He had never imagined Peter could be so... so soft. The Alpha who had ripped out his sister's throat was now a Beta who doted on Stiles and Kira endlessly; the two sides of him were almost impossible for Chris to reconcile in his head.

"I can't help him with this," he finally admitted. "All I can do is be there afterwards to dry his tears and hold him."

"There's nothing wrong with that." Except for Peter being with Stiles at all, but he'd reconciled himself to that. If John wasn't raising any objections he had no right to do it either. "I don't want to think about the shape he'd be in if you weren't here to do it. So stop being so Goddamn dramatic."

That made Peter growl and shove his hand away, but both things were half-hearted at best. "I am not being dramatic. I'm the only one who isn't under reacting, Christopher." He paused in front of the plate he'd put together, loaded down with both vegetables and Doritos, hands clenching and unclenching a few times. "I... there isn't anyone else to vent to. They all care about Scott more than I think is reasonable. I can't very well go on about how much I'd like to kill him to anyone else in this house. I should thank you for listening."

He didn't though, just grabbed the plate and left the room. A snort seemed like the only appropriate response, because Peter was always so Peter - Kira had been right about that. It only took a few minutes to mop up after the wolf, and then he checked on the kitsune. She looked even more unsettled and was very pointedly watching the TV... but she was there. Kira hadn't been scared off and he knew she would be there until she could see for herself that Stiles was okay. While she accepted the sandwich and soda he offered she was very clearly uninterested in talking. It left him puttering around the kitchen after delivering them, waiting for the rest of the pack to come home.

The door swung open again at 5:30, and he felt some of the tension he'd been carrying in his neck and shoulders fall away. Even if they didn't have an Alpha and even if he couldn't feel any pack bonds... he still liked it when they were all together. Especially when one of them was having such a hard time it soothed part of him to know that they were all under one roof.

His father would be disgusted with him, which was something to be proud of.

Without super senses he couldn't quite make out the conversation going on a room away. He registered John's voice, Derek's rumble and Kira's quiet answers, but nothing distinct came through. A few minutes later he did hear two sets of feet heading up the stairs and just assumed that one of them belonged to John. Sure it was Derek coming into the kitchen he didn't even turn to look, just kept cutting the turkey they would need to make heart healthy tacos.

So he could be forgiven for jumping when two arms slid around his waist and a nose pressed to the nape of his neck. John chuckled against his skin, prompting him to gently elbow the man. That earned him a squeeze and then one thumb slipped under his shirt to stoke his stomach.

"I thought Hunters were always attuned to their surroundings, ever vigilant?"

"I'm not a Hunter anymore," he grumbled. That wasn't quite true, not yet. But in a few days... "And anyway this is my home. I'm safe here - guard doesn't have to be that far up." He had heard and felt John's breath hitch at the word 'home' and knew why. It wasn't often that he admitted that's what this place was, mostly because he was sure he would lose it. "I thought you'd go up and see Stiles."

The gusty sigh that answered him tickled, but Chris forced himself not to react. It was harder to ignore the thumb still sweeping over his skin, especially since most of John's hand had followed it under his shirt. "I wanted to. But right now I don't think he wants to see me. He hates being emotional in front of me - seems to think I'll see it as a weakness. Right now he's got pack around him and that's enough. I'll wait until he's actually feeling better so he doesn't feel like he needs to _pretend_ to feel better for my sake."

There wasn't much of an answer he could give to that, so he just turned his head enough to offer a kiss. John took him up on it immediately and despite the awkward angle they spent the next few minutes trading soft, sweet kisses. Eventually the other man gave a quiet sigh and let his forehead fall to Chris' shoulder, a comfortable silence still surrounding them.

He had loved Vicky - still loved her - but they had never had anything like this. They were Hunters before they were husband and wife, even before they were parents. Argent family business had always, always come first. His wife, God rest her troubled soul, had never been good at letting her guard down long enough to just be. Allison had been the only one she could be soft for and even that had its limits. As much as he missed her, he couldn't deny that his relationship with John was giving him something that he'd never known he needed.

"Derek is now officially one of my deputies. Once he gets the uniform on he's going to be a menace. Not intentionally, but still. People already swoon over him - this is going to make it worse. Didn't think of that before I suggested bringing him on board."

"He's going to love that."

"I know." John sighed again, then caressed his stomach one last time before pulling away. "I'm going to have to warn him before he starts his first shift. Luckily he's going to be working overnight for a while - should limit his contact with most people. If he wants I can keep him out of the station most of the time, send him out to the edges of town for his patrols. I have a feeling this might not last long. He just seemed at loose ends and I wanted to help."

The man didn't do much of the cooking in the house but he still washed his hands and grabbed a knife to help out. Feeding two werewolves, a kitsune and a teenage boy was nearly an industrial undertaking. If they wanted to eat before ten they needed to get things moving. It was nice to have John settle in beside him, sharing in the chore without needing to be asked.

"I'm sure he appreciates the gesture. Even if he hates it at least he'll have tried something. He'll be miserable if he just sits around the house all day."

"Maybe I'll bring home some pamphlets for Beacon Heights University. Stiles is thinking about going there anyway and maybe Derek would like to take some classes."

"I didn't realize Stiles was going to stay so close to home." He kept the words careful and even, all too aware of the sudden strain in John's voice.

"It was never the plan." John's knife came down particularly hard, and then he took a deep breath. "Not until we talked about it at the start of summer. He was always going to go away for school, probably out of state. For the past few years he's been looking at John Jay College of Criminal Justice. It's a good stepping stone to the FBI."

Chris heard a world of lost possibilities in the other man's voice. They both knew it was unlikely that Stiles would get to follow that dream, one that he'd probably held for a long time. Maybe he would have before the Nogitsune, but that encounter had wounded the teen to the core. Even before they'd formed their little pack he doubted Stiles had been eager to leave the comfort of being close to his father behind. While Peter would follow him wherever he went the rest of them couldn't follow suit, and Stiles seemed pretty invested in keeping Beacon Hills safe anyway.

The kid would probably never get out, and he found himself briefly mourning what could have been.

"From what I understand it's a good school. No shame in sticking close to home to get a degree."

John's only answer was a grunt, because what father would be happy with their child choosing death and danger? Even the FBI would have been safer than the bullshit that happened regularly in this town. And maybe there was nothing wrong with making a life in your hometown but Stiles deserved more than that. He deserved better than settling.

"It might be for the best to get Derek enrolled in classes. I think if he ended up doing something like rescuing a kitten in his uniform most of the women and half the men in town will end up spontaneously pregnant." Maybe he felt ridiculous for saying it, but John's surprised laughter was both immediate and long-lasting. It was worth it, and he was willing to lose a lot to keep it.

~.~.~

It had been hard to find a warehouse that Derek Hale didn't own. He had a feeling that as an Alpha the wolf had had big plans for the district, something that sent up a hollow ache of regret in his chest. Looking back always made him feel that way though. There was so little to be proud of in his past. He just hoped he was making the first step towards a better future.

"You sure you're sure 'bout this?"

The man in the large, nearly empty room with him sounded like he couldn't give less of a shit what the answer to that question was. The look in his eyes said something different though. He knew what this meant, knew that there was no going back once he fired up his machine and put a needle to Chris' skin. Once the ink was laid down he wouldn't be a Hunter anymore.

Hell, he wouldn't be an Argent.

There was another man in another mostly bare room taking care of the paperwork involved. Enforcing a real _damnatio memoriae_ was impossible in modern times, but his family - former family - would come as close as possible. He would be erased from all Argent records, expunged from every informal method of keeping track of their genealogy. Vicky's family would be contacted so they could do the same, and the word would spread until Christopher Argent was nothing more than the ghost of a rumor among the Hunting community. He would be a dead man walking in more than one sense, the Hunter becoming one of the hunted.

Not that he expected anyone to be actively coming for him. It was highly unlikely that any Hunters would be knocking at the Stilinski's door to take care of him any time soon. But if they met him in the course of another Hunt? Even his closest relatives wouldn't hesitate to attack.

So the hint of concern in tattoo artist’s eyes was understandable if not exactly appreciated. Not when he knew this same man probably made most of his living tattooing the unwilling who had been cast out of Hunter families. If his needs weren't so very particular he would have gone to a different, legitimate artist. His options were limited if he wanted to do this right.

John, Stiles and their pack were worth getting this right.

"I'm sure."

"Alright. Sit down and let's hash out what you want. Since you're picking it out yourself you prob'ly don't want anything that screams 'I'm a werewolf's bitch'. That's the kind I usually do. Be nice to branch out."

Punching the man wouldn't get him what he wanted, he reminded himself. It was better to breathe through the anger and disgust, especially since so much of it was really aimed inward. How had he ever believed this life was noble?

"I have something in mind, yes." The man - Kevin - sighed but took the paper he held out.

"It's gotta follow the rules."

"I'm aware."

"Hmmm... looks like you are. Should be able to make this work. Part of it's gotta be on your neck though. Did a cool piece on a guy's throat the other day."

"Let's go a little more subtle. The side of my neck should work fine."

"Yeah. That's plenty visible enough. So do you want all of it on your neck, or were you thinking something bigger?"

It shouldn't have felt so normal, discussing his tattoo with Kevin. Getting it was a huge step that would change his life forever. Despite that the conversation was almost exactly like the one he'd had with woman who'd done the tattoo on his arm. She'd been more concerned with making sure he wasn't drunk than Kevin was, but they were equally meticulous about sizing, placement and color.

Once the tattoo gun was buzzing away, Chris was well on his way to being drunk on magic. That was part of the benefit to working with an artist sanctioned by the Hunting families - they had access to healers who could spell their instruments. Not only did that magic all but erase his pain, it also healed the skin almost instantly. The ink was sealed in and would never fade away. It would be as fresh as the day it was laid down until he died, advertising his 'crime' for every Hunter to see.

Though because he had chosen it at least he could make sure the piece was beautiful. He'd seen some that would be awful to live with, and he was happy to escape that fate. Hopefully John wouldn't mind the addition. The man was fascinated by the one he already had, his fingers tracing the lines over and over any time it was uncovered while they were wrapped up in each other. Though when Chris explained the 'why' of this new one and what it meant John probably wouldn't be very happy with him.

And God did he hope the Hales wouldn't kill him for incorporating a triskele.

It had felt right while he was trying to design it. Stiles wasn't a Hale, but he was still entwined in their lives which meant Chris and John always would be too. Their pack wasn't the Hale pack, might not ever have a Hale Alpha, but it had still been born from the ashes of the pack his sister had destroyed. Not including them would have felt wrong, and there was no better way to lay his new allegiance out for everyone to see. Of course the wolf howling from his left shoulder up onto his neck would have a triskele wound in its fur, just like he had to be calling out to a star instead of the moon. He didn't know if anyone would understand it, because he'd been careful to make it a 5-point Celtic star knot instead of a more traditional one.

He and John weren't a sure thing - their romance might not last the test of time. But he couldn't imagine a future when he wouldn't be part of the man's life, just like he couldn't imagine not being in Stiles'. They were pack the way born werewolves meant it, and he had a feeling the Stilinskis would never abandon anyone they'd claimed as theirs. John's identity was wrapped up in being the Sheriff, and he took his duty to protect and serve seriously. His son was just as invested in those same things even if he expressed it a little differently. He couldn't have a Sheriff's badge tattooed on him without being made fun of forever... so this was a nice compromise.

There were other little things too, signs for a Hunter to read. The small script that read 'La Bête', another line that named him for the 'traitre' so many of them would see him as. Tiny arrows and bunches of wolfsbane, all woven into the overall tattoo with a practiced eye, a good deal of talent and the help of magic. Most of the uninitiated would never notice those little touches; no Hunter worth their salt would ever miss them.

Kevin took a lot longer than Jason. During a water break Chris looked it all over to make sure all the papers were in order, then signed his life away in a move that was very much literal. Maybe the US government and courts would still consider him an Argent but no one else would. If he ever got married again he would take their last name to make it completely official... and he couldn't help but hope that final change would be to 'Stilinski' someday.

Five hours after he'd gotten to one of six warehouses Derek hadn't bought, Chris walked back out a ghost.

He couldn't remember ever feeling so free.

~.~.~

It had taken some careful planning, but he had timed his appointment so that when he got home Derek would be the only one there. John was at work, Kira and Stiles were at school and Peter was... somewhere. He really wasn't sure what the older wolf did while trying not to stalk the halls of Beacon Hills High School to be with Stiles. All he knew was that it took him away from the house, which was all he really cared about.

He didn't need an audience for this, after all.

Adding to the difficulty was the knowledge that what he had to say was going to upset Derek. Someone needed to be available shortly after their talk ended without the danger of them walking in midway. It was all a careful balancing act that he prayed would go off the way he wanted it to. While he was at it he prayed that no one was going to rip his throat out or throw him out of the pack. He might survive the later but it wouldn't feel like living.

The weight of the secret he'd been keeping had never felt heavier than when he walked up to the attic and knocked on the door. He wasn't stupid - he knew Derek had been avoiding him. They'd been a good team last year, working to take the Nogitsune down, but that had been done with the understanding that it was a temporary, necessary evil. Neither one of them had expected to deal with the other long term and it was... hell. It was hard for him and he was excellent at compartmentalizing. He knew Derek was struggling with it even more than he was and he had tried to respect that. He'd given the wolf space and time, and this was the first time he'd gone against that inclination.

"Chris." The greeting was guarded, and Derek had angled the door so that he couldn't really see inside. Protecting his den from an Argent was an instinct. Idly he wondered if that would change once he knew that Chris wasn't actually one anymore. He could feel the other man’s gaze roaming over his new tattoo, but Derek didn’t ask the questions anyone else would. "Did you need something?"

"I wanted to talk to you, if you have a minute." He could watch in real time as the wolf wrestled with suspicion and eventually came out on the side of trusting him. It would have been nice if he deserved that consideration.

God, they were all going to hate him.

"That's fine. Can we take it downstairs?"

"Of course." It went against everything he'd been taught to turn his back on a werewolf. Chris did it deliberately, trying to show that he trusted Derek with his safety. For a little while longer at least, and he would never begrudge the wolf any reaction he had to the news.

The awkward, uncomfortable air between them was impossible to ignore. He was sure that soon it would be even worse, and part of him wondered if he really needed to do this. After all the lies he'd told to keep it hidden, all the strings he'd pulled to make sure it wouldn't come to light out of carelessness, did he really have to say anything? The chances of the pack learning it on their own were slim; Scott McCall knew but had chosen to keep the information to himself. The boy was unlikely to change that now, so what was the harm?

Then Derek sat across from him and ventured a smile that was mostly a wince, and Chris knew that he needed to do this. It was a secret that could tear them apart if it did come to light. If they were going to hear it they would hear it from him. He owed Derek and Peter at least that much after everything his family had done to them.

Derek especially was owed the truth about it.

"This... isn't easy for me to say." The stall only served to make Derek arch one expressive brow and turned his eyes guarded again. He took a deep breath and tried to even out his emotions, tried to make this all as clinical as he could. If he got overwhelmed it would put pressure on Derek to react a certain way and he didn't want that. Too many Argents had stolen his agency for Chris to feel comfortable with anything that got even a little close to that territory. "There's some things I haven't told you. Told anyone. That has to change."

The wolf's nostrils flared, eyes glowing that eerie blue. The Hunter in him wanted to reach for a weapon, because any werewolf with eyes that color was dangerous and needed to be put down. Against that Chris could set Derek's awkward smile, the way he looked after their two younger pack members, and the way the wolf had somehow found the strength to trust another Argent.

"There's a grave in the family cemetery that's empty. We had a closed casket funeral so no one would know. I'm one of the only ones left that do. One of the administrators of the home knows since I had to go through him to make the arrangements. Allison knew and she told Scott. Otherwise --"

"Kate or Gerard?" Derek's voice was a low, threatening growl but his expression was all blind panic. There was still almost ten minutes before Stiles was due home, and maybe he should have waited a little longer. Maybe he'd planned this wrong and he should have done this with Stiles and Peter in the room.

"Gerard." He would have said more, explained that Derek's unwilling bite had trapped his father in a perpetual cycle of pain and bitter anger. Chris had planned to detail the decision he'd made, had expected that the wolf would want to know why. There was even a small speech he had in mind about his tattoo and what it meant. He really had thought that the conversation would be long, involved and exhausting for them both.

What he got was a werewolf teetering on the edge of a panic attack. Derek was trembling before Chris had formed the 'd' in his father's name, and once he had the wolf shoved away from the table. The loud noise of his chair hitting the floor seemed to startle him, because he growled and then lashed out with one foot, kicking it further away. Chris quickly stood as well only to have fangs bared in his direction, Derek already in Beta shift and ready to fight.

He watched as that defensiveness gave way completely to fear, saw Derek go pale and then green. Guilt and helplessness ate at him while Derek threw up, hunched in on himself and fled. The only good thing about it was that the wolf had darted to and up the stairs, retreating to his room instead of the Preserve.

Fingers shaking, he reached for his phone and found Peter's number.

_I made a mistake. Derek needs you and Stiles. Come home ASAP._

He ignored Peter's immediate response, which was to threaten him with death if his nephew was harmed in any way. The man wouldn't stop to ask questions of him before heading up to check on Derek. They might have their issues, but he knew for a fact that Derek's safety was a priority for Peter. There would be no killing until he made sure the other werewolf was in one piece.

Stiles would likely arrive around the same time as his wolf; Peter had probably already texted him to let him know something was wrong. So Chris left his phone on the table and did the only thing he really could.

He cleaned up the mess Derek had made but he had caused. As he did he couldn't help but wish that it was always so easy. Argent-caused messes were usually so big, so bloody. A little vomit was nothing in comparison to the devastation so often left in his family's wake. He was trying though. God was he trying... but he couldn't help but wonder if it was too little, too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I haven't watched Teen Wolf in a while, because I got sucked into Supernatural by a summer coworker and have yet to crawl out of that hole. <.<; This means I can't remember if Gerard being alive was really a super close kept secret? But I liked the idea of it so that's what I'm going with. XD
> 
> Honestly season three was the last one I really enjoyed and I never got past the first like, three episodes at the beginning of the Dread Doctors arc. So anything in this story that happens after that third season is way not canon compliant and I will be adjusting and tweaking things as I need to within the canon of those first seasons.
> 
> Long-winded way of saying 'I do what I want'. :D
> 
> Also! Does anyone have any strong opinions on whether chapters should be two POV's or stick to one? Having one means shorter but swifter chapters, two means longer chapters but with a longer wait time between them. I'm sort of torn and will end up flipping a coin if most people don't care/if there's a mostly even split in opinions.
> 
> Thanks again for sticking with this story and sorry for the rambling! <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Totally self-indulgent character addition now coming your way. XD
> 
> This may suck? :'D
> 
> Thanks for reading, and I'd love comments if you feel it in your heart to give them. <3

"Those potatoes didn't do anything to you, you know."

"I'm not even sure they are potatoes." Viciously spearing one of the white chunks on his lunch tray, he pretended he didn't notice the way Kira's hopeful smile had faltered. "Might be cauliflower or something."

"Either way it tastes pretty good. You should... you should go ahead and eat it. Look, you can even have some of my ketchup or barbecue sauce if you want." She had taken to loading up her tray with all kinds of condiments, like if she could just figure out the right combination maybe he would eat something the school cafeteria put out. It was sweet of her, but…

Even over the din of other students he could hear Scott laughing across the room. He was sitting with Malia and some kids he didn't really know from the lacrosse team, having what looked like a great time without him. Lydia was holding court in another part of the cafeteria, her old mask firmly back in place. At least she wasn't with Scott though. Maybe that meant she would fucking acknowledge his existence later but he wasn't holding out much hope. He also wasn't sure if the banshee and Alpha were fighting or what, and Kira had only shrugged when he asked if she knew. That didn't matter as much as the fact that Scott was having a grand old time with someone that wasn't Stiles.

He should be over the way it hurt by now. Scott had been leaving him behind slowly, inch by inch, ever since he'd been turned into a werewolf.

"I'm not hungry." Even if he had been before lunch started, social anxiety was a real appetite killer for him. Kira sighed the sigh that was becoming her usual and he hated himself for it. He had been right - he was obviously a crappy friend and the kitsune had been wrong to choose him. She should be over there with Scott, should have picked a pack that had a real Alpha and members who weren't always making her look so fucking sad. "It all looks like shit anyway. I should start bringing something from home."

"It isn't that bad." They both looked down at their lunches and he was pretty sure they were both making the same face. "Okay, homemade lunches would be better. You should still eat something now, Stiles. Peter will be upset if you don't." The thought of his wolf hurt a little because he wasn't there, but it also helped him _breathe_. Remembering the man who would meet him at home with cuddles, food and whispered promises of devotion eased the loneliness lodged in his chest. Peter wasn't going anywhere, would never leave him behind. It looked like Kira wouldn't either, not even when he was being a jerk.

"I'm sorry. I'm not... I'm sorry."

"Don't be! It's okay, Stiles - I get it. Now! How'd your meeting with the guidance counselor go?"

Kira Yukimura was the fucking best.

"It went okay," he admitted while accepting the offered ketchup packet. "She's pretty sure I can get what I need to graduate by the end of the semester. Less clear about why I want to do that, but she didn't push too hard. I told her I was applying to Beacon Heights and she got this weird look on her face."

Probably because he'd been talking about John Jay for years now. He'd had it all very carefully laid out, and Mrs. Larson had always both approved of the plan and appreciated how thorough it was. This sudden change probably looked impulsive and concerning.

"She's got some legwork to do to get everything settled and I'll meet with her again on Monday morning. Should be able to start my new schedule right away."

His lunch had looked almost appetizing while he talked, but now that he was waiting for a response... Scott was laughing again and the girls at Lydia's table were doing the same, and he wanted to throw up more than he wanted to eat his food. But Kira was smiling at him encouragingly, and Derek had kept up a steady stream of Avenger's memes to his cell all morning even though Stiles knew he hated them. His dad and Chris would be there for dinner, both of them more solid supports than he ever could have dreamed a few months ago. In a few hours he would get to go home to his wolf, and this would be one more day down, one more that he would never have to do again.

If he just got through today he had the weekend to look forward to and one whole week of school done.

He still didn't want to eat.

"So how was your morning, foxy lady?" Maybe if she was talking he'd be able to block everything else out. If he just focused on her and what was coming out of her mouth, maybe he could put some food in his and eat.

"Boring. Well, not totally boring. I like history and we're starting a pretty cool book in English, so that's nice. Oh! And I guess there's a new student coming. Returning?" Stiles was in the middle of a tiny bite of his cauliflower-potatoes but came to a stop at the news. Apparently his eyebrows had learned enough from Derek's that they asked the question for him, because she shrugged before continuing. "Didn't catch a name but I guess it's a 'big deal'." The dork actually did the air quotes. To reward her he choked down that little bite and scooped another onto his fork.

If he thought about it too much, chewed for too long, he was going to throw up. It was better if he had something to focus on and tried not to taste anything. He'd been getting better at home, but school just... it sapped his desire to eat completely.

"Was this new-old student starting today? Because that's just stupid - it's Saturday tomorrow. Why not start fresh on Monday?"

Before Kira could answer, the noise in the cafeteria receded for half a heartbeat and then a wave of excited chatter broke out, rippling through the student body. The origin point seemed to be the door and that was where he meant to look... but his eye caught on something else first. Lydia had stood up abruptly, expression cool as anything but the fingers of one hand toying with her ring. She was nervous even if she didn't want to show it and he hadn't seen her put up that kind of front since--

"So I guess he really is a big deal, huh?"

Kira's question snapped his attention back to the doors of the cafeteria. His half-full fork fell from nerveless fingers, and he was surprised Lydia hadn't already started to walk over. Jackson fucking Whittemore was back, surveying the cafeteria like a douchey king lording over his subjects. Stiles had thought he would never see the guy again, but there he was in all his werewolf glory.

Now it made sense that Lydia wasn't sitting with Scott. She'd probably heard the rumor of his return and wanted to present a very specific image of herself. Jackson had never known supernatural badass Lydia. Maybe she wanted to keep it that way... or maybe it was just easier to fall back into her former role because of the stress.

Either way he didn't seem very interested. Except for the small jump in his otherwise hard jaw his eyes passed right over her without revealing anything. A faint look of contempt was there when the guy saw Scott. Stiles couldn't help but be a little offended on his friend's behalf - Lydia wasn't the only one falling back on habit, he guessed. For the first time he felt a small pang of regret that he wouldn't be joining the lacrosse team. It would be so normal, with him and Scott, Jackson and Danny - the four of them had been playing since forever. It might have been nice to get even a little bit of that old life back.

But he would be graduating in a few short months if all went well. He had no time for sports that he wasn't even very good at.

Suddenly Jackson's eyes met his and he was startled into giving a tiny flail that sent his newly picked up fork flying. A hint of a smile crossed the other teen's lips and then... then he was walking. Walking towards Stiles and Kira like maybe he meant to sit with them. Why would Jackson sit with them? Lydia looked pissed, Scott looked irritated and when he managed to find Danny - who was ensconced with some of the band members - the other teen looked... bemused? Fuck, Danny had clearly known this was coming, and he even gave Stiles a little nod like he was bestowing his _blessing_ and it was just…

When Jackson got to their table he ignored Kira, piercing eyes fixed exclusively on Stiles. He didn't really know how to handle it - never had. Jackson had been his big gay awakening back when they were fourteen. Well, bi awakening to be more accurate. Maybe his obsession with Lydia had never waned because of it, but Stiles had had several dreams he would die before talking about. That crush had long since faded but it was still hard to look away when Jackson had that look on his face.

The guy was pretty, and that wasn't Stiles' fault.

"Uhhh... hi?"

Jackson snorted and dropped his backpack with a thump. Then _he_ dropped to the seat beside Stiles and how was this his life? Forget all the Nogitsune bullshit - this was probably the weirdest thing that had ever happened to him. They'd never been friends, hadn't spoken without hostility since they were about fifteen, but there the guy was like he'd always been there. Like this was where he was supposed to be.

Stiles knew he was gawking but he couldn't help it, not when Jackson had yet to even say anything. He didn't know if this was a trick or a trap because it couldn't be real. There was no way. But the guy was rummaging around in his bag to dig out first a brown paper bag - Jackson was bringing his own lunch to school now apparently - and then what looked like a protein bar.

"You look like shit, Stilinski." His old rival chucked the bar at him so suddenly that he didn't have the chance to try and catch it. He was too busy processing the words which sort of hurt. Especially when paired with that signature smirk that had never meant good things. "Eat something before I make you."

What?

"Excuse you, I am a ten out of ten. Most bangable guy around, you can take a poll and ask anyone. I'm in the pink of health, and--"

"Shut up and eat." Jackson finally deigned to acknowledge Kira, giving her a nod and a small quirk of his lips. "Hey."

"Uhm. Hi? I'm Kira. Kira Yukimura. I'm new? Ish. I started last year and now I'm still here even though my dad kinda wanted to move back to New York. He teaches history and you'll probably be in one of his classes. Am I talking too much? I'm talking too much. Sorry."

One of Jackson's eyebrows had lifted a little but otherwise he was the picture of calm. It was... kind of weird seeing him so in control instead of barely leashed hostility. Stiles wanted to take a jab at his choice of cars just to see if he could get a rise out of him.

"Does she know?"

"Huh?"

"Come on Stilinski, you're sharper than this. Does she know?" The exaggerated sigh that escaped the guy's mouth when he looked over at him spoke volumes. He plucked the bar out of Stiles' hands and unwrapped it for him, eyes now trained back on his face. "Do I need to break this up into small pieces and feed it to you, or do you have enough hand-eye coordination to manage the rest?"

"I'm not hungry." It took a beat to remember the other question because this reappearing trick was still kind of blowing his mind. "She knows."

"He knows?"

"Yeah, I do. And I call bullshit Stilinski. You used to be scrawny but now you're skin and bones. Eat the damn bar or I'll feed it to you like a baby." Thankfully he handed the bar back and looked away, giving Stiles the chance to decide on the best course of action. "So. You human or are you something?"

"Uhm..."

"Dude. Jackson. You can't force someone to just out themselves--"

"It's okay! I'm a kitsune. Are you? Something, not a kitsune because you probably aren't one of those. I mean, you could be, I don't know, but you don't seem like one? I'm sort of new to this and my senses aren't as good as like, a werewolf's even though Derek's been teaching me - us - how to you know. Use our senses better. And other stuff too, like fighting stuff. He taught us this really cool thing where you jab somebody in the throat," Kira demonstrated with her fork because she was nervous and the most adorable dork ever. "To escape a hold."

"Did you switch brains with Stilinski? Is that a thing now in Beacon Hills? Because you’re acting more like him than he is."

"Not that I know of?"

"Right."

"So are you something?"

"Werewolf now. Used to be a lizard thing."

"Oh. Uh. What, you know, happened with that?"

"I died."

"O-oh."

"Then I got better." Kira just stared, eyes wide and mouth hanging open a little bit. Stiles couldn't help but snort, because he knew a bad riff on Monty Python when he heard one. And because that deserved some kind of reward he took a little bite of the protein bar... and it actually wasn't bad. He ignored the half-smile on Jackson's stupid, smug face when he got to his fifth bite and reassessed his tray of food. The cauliflower-potatoes were probably a lost cause... but the popcorn chicken didn't look as awful as he remembered. He washed the rest of the bar down with milk and went in for one bite size bit of chicken.

Kira was beaming at Jackson like he was the second coming. Stiles decided not to let that bother him.

He was only half-listening as the two of them talked, with her grilling the guy on the whole murder lizard ordeal. He'd lived it, but it was interesting to hear Jackson's side of things. It was... it was sort of hard to keep eating when he realized how fucking similar it was to his own with the Nogitsune. She clearly saw when his thoughts shifted, because without missing a beat his foxy lady reached over and gently tapped his fingers one at a time. There were ten, he wasn't locked away in his own mind, and he'd eaten more of his lunch than he'd managed since school started.

Once Peter found out why he was going to roll out the fucking red carpet for Jackson. He just wished he knew why the guy had sat down with him, why he'd pushed that protein bar at him. None of it made sense because they'd never been friends... and Danny and Lydia were both still very Jackson-less while he was getting the whole experience live and in person. Both of them had a way better claim on the werewolf's time than he did. It didn't make any fucking sense.

By the time the bell rang to end the period he had mindlessly eaten almost everything that had been given to him. He couldn't help but look down in astonishment, because what the hell? Jack-ass had actually helped.

Knew it too, the smug bastard. He had the audacity to wink at them as he stood and swung his bag up onto one shoulder. There was no 'goodbye' when he left either - the ass just walked off to meet Danny, clapping his friend's shoulder. Both of them were out of the cafeteria before he'd even processed the whole thing enough to pick up his tray. Kira ended up taking it for him while he sat there trying to get it to compute.

Jackson was back and they'd never been friends. For some reason he'd still chosen to sit with them instead of the girl who had saved him with her love, instead of the guy who'd been his best friend since they were all eating their own boogers in preschool. They had poked and prodded each other, Stiles had creeped on his girlfriend, and any chance they would have had to bond over the supernatural shit-show was cut off when Jackson had moved to England.

And Jackson had still done him more good in fifteen minutes than Scott McCall had all summer.

What was his life?

~.~.~

_Derek needs us._

_I may have to kill Christopher later._

_I’m in the parking lot._

The first text had him speeding toward the exit already; the second meant he turned that into an all out run. Crowd surfing was a talent of his even when he was being careful, but for once he wasn’t overly concerned if he had to push someone out of the way or if his backpack slammed into anyone that he was passing. Derek needed him so none of the rest of them mattered. He kept an eye out for Kira along the way, but her last class was all the way at the other end of the building. It didn’t look like she’d even gotten to her locker yet and no way was he waiting.

Just before he got to the door he heard Lydia shout Jackson’s name. He kept running but looked back just as the guy drew level with him. Why the fuck that happened he didn’t know, and he didn’t have time to ask. The ‘jock nod’ he got in greeting was a little irritating, so he made sure to roll his eyes before looking forward again.

He’d sort of hoped the other teen would peel away and be headed somewhere else. Instead he was right at his side the whole way to Peter’s Ferrari - Stiles deliberately ignored the snort of amusement that left the ass running with him. It wasn’t like he could tell his wolf to get a car that was less obnoxious, not when he was so understanding of Roscoe. It was a trade-off, or maybe a stand-off where whoever blinked first was an utter asshole.

Jackson apparently had a death wish, because as Stiles circled around to hop in the passenger seat the werewolf just opened the back door and got in. _Kira_ didn’t get in Peter’s car without asking and his wolf adored her. He wasn’t sure what was going to happen to someone his wolf probably didn’t even really remember.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Peter was asking as Stiles shut the door. His eyes were fixed on Jackson through the rearview mirror, and the younger wolf was still sitting there as casually as if this had been planned.

“We can fight about it or we can get to wherever Stilinski here was running to.”

He was about to argue when Peter saw the merit of Jackson’s point. The wolf hit the gas hard, and he would deny forever that he had squeaked when he was thrown backwards. Getting his seatbelt on was clearly a priority over talking to fucking Jackson Whittemore, so he fumbled with that instead of wasting his breath.

It was a miracle they didn’t get pulled over because it took them half the time to get back to the house than it should have. Jack-ass actually looked impressed, and he was out the door as fast as Peter was. As the lone human he was usually slower, but he was motivated as fuck to get in and find out what was wrong. He left his backpack behind and got to the front door at almost the same time as the werewolves.

Of course Whittemore had no problem being the one to open it. Later he was going to again ponder what his life even was, but just then it wasn’t important. Derek was all that mattered, and even that little cryptic bit about killing Chris wasn’t enough to make him stop to find and talk to the Hunter.

Jackson finally seemed to catch on that he was intruding, because he didn’t race up the stairs with him and Peter. They could both scramble up the first set at the same time, but he was allowed to go first when they reached the more narrow set that led up to the attic. That was probably for the best, because his idiot wolf tried to reach around him and throw open the door.

That was sooo not okay. Not with Derek anyway, because the last thing he needed was people infringing on his space without his permission. Even he had been guilty of barging into the loft whenever _he_ felt like it, not caring if the wolf wanted him there or not. Now he knew the guy, knew how much he struggled with people crossing his every boundary. As long as he wasn’t screaming in pain or dying, they were going to ask for his permission.

“Derek? You in there big guy?” There was a muffled sound that he took as a ‘yes’, which was good. Responses were usually better than complete silences. Maybe. “I don’t know what happened but something clearly did. Peter said you needed us… can we come in? Silence is a no, if I hear anything at all I’m coming in and Peter’s coming with me. So… we opening the door or fucking off to get answers from Chris?”

There was a long pause, long enough that he was almost ready to head downstairs and let Peter loose on the Hunter. His wolf had wrapped the fingers of one hand around his wrist, holding on tight enough that it was painful - he was going to end up bruising, which would make school interesting. Just before he gave up though, he heard another muffled sound. He had warned Derek and the younger werewolf would be able to hear they hadn't left yet... so he went immediately for the door.

Peter shoved past him as soon as it was open, his patience used up. Once inside though, his wolf obviously didn’t know what to do. He began to pace, a low snarl filling the air as he flexed his fists with his claws out.

God help anyone else that tried to come into the room.

The huddled mass on the bed had to be Derek, even if he was buried so far under a pile of blankets that he couldn’t be seen. As he got closer, he _could_ see the wolf was trembling hard enough that the blankets shook with him. His heart clenched at the sight - Derek was Mr. Stoic. The guy scowled and all, but otherwise didn't show much emotion. Even when Laura had died, even when he and Scott had made her death a fucking _game_ , Derek had done little more than sneer in their direction. The pack he'd cobbled together had fallen apart, and he'd still managed to take it with grim silences and vacant stares out at the horizon.

Now he was a quivering mess, and someone was going to die for this. Forget sending Peter to do the dirty work - he was going to kill Chris if it needed to be done. _Nobody_ got to reduce his sourwolf to this and not get fucked up.

He came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the room to try and get a handle on his anger and fear. Derek didn't need to be dealing with his shit on top of whatever had happened, and Peter probably smelled like rage enough for the both of them. Being the calm, comforting presence didn't come naturally to him - he kind of wished his dad was there - but he was damn well going to do his best. A few deep breaths later he settled on the edge of the bed, wondering if he wanted to risk his fingers by trying to comfort the werewolf with touch.

"Do you need anythin--"

"No."

"Okay. Do you wan--"

"No."

"Okay." Words built up in his throat, demanding to be released, and it was work to swallow them down. This was probably one of those things he couldn't babble his way through and anyway he should probably let Derek start talking first. If he ever did. It might end up being a long, long wait and that was okay. _He_ needed to be okay with that so he didn't end up pushing his friend even further beyond his breaking point.

He might also need to tell Peter to get the hell out before anything productive happened. Protective as fuck werewolf looked incredibly sexy on him, but Derek probably wouldn't appreciate that part of it very much. Stiles thought the constant growling and oppressive pacing were probably not helping the situation. There didn't seem to be any immediate danger, so the promise of protective, vengeful violence was more of an upper than something that would help everyone chill out. He also wasn't ready to shoo his wolf unless Derek gave some indication that he wanted his uncle gone.

It felt like he was navigating a minefield with a blindfold on and his legs hobbled together. He'd never done this with Derek, or at least not in person. Texting their fears and the other bullshit they were dealing with was easier, simpler. There was no worrying about if his hands ought to be doing something, how much space Derek needed, the tone he would deliver his words in. It was just... so damn complicated.

"I'm quitting."

"What?"

"Being a deputy."

"O...kay?"

"I shouldn't have said yes."

"So we'll find something else for you to do with your time."

"I wasted your dad's time."

"Dude. You didn't. You tried something and it didn't work. It's not like he's going to be mad at you or anything." The whole conversation was so clearly not what was wrong... but he would have it anyway. He was going to give Derek as long as he fucking needed to come around to what had sent him running to hide under the covers. He could do that - he could be patient and emotionally available.

He could.

"I didn't like the way people were looking at me. In the uniform."

"I... hadn't thought of that."

"Me either. Some of it makes me feel..." A shudder rippled through the covers and the werewolf curled up even tighter. Deciding to take a chance Stiles shifted too, moving so he was sitting fully on the bed, his thigh pressed gently against Derek's spine. When the other man didn't pull away and even seemed to arch a little into the touch he couldn't help but give himself a little internal pat on the back. "I don't like it. Or talking so much to so many people."

"So you're quitting. I get it and fully support you. So will dad and everyone else."

"... okay."

"Okay." A few beats of silence occurred where Stiles counted his fingers by tapping them one by one on his knees and tried to figure out what the fuck to do next. "How you doing, sourwolf?"

Derek snorted, drawing a quick smile out of him. Maybe the big guy was still hiding and maybe he was still quaking periodically, but he did seem to maybe be relaxing slowly out of crisis mode. That was a good thing - probably. Had to be.

Right?

"I feel like running." Nope. Not a good. Not even a little bit.

"Like... away? From Beacon Hills? Or just running through the woods until you can stop thinking?"

"Both. Either. I just want to be _away_."

"I know I don't know what happened but I will absolutely make Chris get a hotel room for a couple days if he's the thing you need to get away from." Derek just sort of shrugged, or at least he assumed that was what was happening under the cotton drapery. "Gonna need more than that big guy." From the corner of his eye he saw Peter open his mouth but stopped it with a firm glare. He had this - he didn't want the two wolves needling each other instead of focusing on teasing the problem out of Derek.

"He didn't... he was trying to make things better. Make them right. I think."

"Intentions don't mean shit when put against damage done. So if you need him to give you more space--"

"No."

For the first time he seemed sure instead of sullen, so Stiles could accept it. After a second he dared to reach out and brush just the tips of his fingers through that little bit of the man's hair he could see. The sheet lowered just enough that one eye could glare at him and it almost made him giggle with giddy relief.

"It's fine. It was just... it was the kind of news I didn't like hearing."

"Which probably means you don't want to say it either, but I kind of want to know what it is, if you think you can get it out. Peter would probably rather beat it out of Chris, but--"

"Gerard. He told me Gerard is still..." Derek's already wan face went even paler and that eye disappeared back under the sheet. Stiles was so worried about him that it took him a few seconds to work out what the fuck that could mean. Peter wasn't so slow on the uptake though, and another vicious sound ripped its way out of his throat. He started for the door, drawing Stiles' attention, but stopped just before throwing it open. While he leaned forward, resting his head against wood and audibly tried to control his breathing... then it finally clicked in his head.

_Scott McCall finds his best friend bloodied and beaten to a pulp. How does that sound?_

Hot and cold waves ran down his body in quick succession, leaving him feeling prickly and uncomfortable in his skin. He could feel ghostly fists slamming into his body, could practically see the unholy pleasure the old man had taken while preparing the 'message' he was trying to sent to Scott. Didn't really matter that his idiot best friend hadn't understood it - Stiles had still taken that beating and that geriatric _asshole_ had probably used that whole night and whatever the hell he'd done to Boyd and Erica as jerk-off fodder. Maybe he hadn't seen the man die but there’d been a funeral and he'd thought... he'd _assumed_ \--

A hand settled on his shoulder and he lashed out before he could think better of it. He got in the hit he'd always wished he'd gotten on Gerard... only it was _Peter's_ nose that had borne the brunt of his defensive rage.

His wolf didn't even flinch though, and that threatening growl had yet to subside. Not that Stiles felt threatened at all. Quite the contrary he felt _safe_ and almost like even this latest news couldn't really touch him. Peter, who was apparently past being verbal, began to use his hands to herd Stiles under the sheets. The touches started gentle but quickly got impatient and began shifting Derek as well until they were arranged to suit Peter's instinctual needs.

That meant he was between the wall and Derek, huddled in the younger wolf's arms with his back between Stiles and the door. Peter was between the door and Derek to complete the protective barriers, and he'd probably rip anyone who tried to come in apart. None of them were leaving for a while, which he was pretty damn okay with.

He couldn't imagine what his sourwolf was going through. Sure Gerard had fucked him up, but he'd managed to destroy Derek's whole pack to the point that those Alpha assholes had barely had to try in order to finish the job. The old bastard had _violated_ Derek with Scott's help, and it had been the man's daughter who'd been the first to do the same. No wonder the guy had hidden, and no wonder he wanted to run.

"We won't let him hurt you," he managed to promise, pushing his own feelings away. " _I_ won't let him hurt you." Derek made a noncommittal noise but did bury his nose in Stiles' hair. "I mean it. I swear on my mom's grave, Derek. I won't let him get _near_ you."

"But he's still... I felt safer. Before. He's not any closer than he was a couple hours ago, but he's still out there."

"What do you need?"

"Nothing."

"No, really. What do you need so you don't have to run again? So you feel _safe_?"

"... I want him to be dead again," Derek whispered, arms tightening around him. "I need him to be dead again."

A better person might have hesitated or gone with a vehement denial. Maybe he should have thought it was some kind of moral quandary and maybe it should have taken him more than half a heartbeat to answer. For him though? For him the answer was as easy as breathing.

"Then he's as good as dead, sourwolf."

A strange flash of heat raced through his body, but it only lasted a second. He decided it had to be nerves - he'd just committed to killing someone after all - or maybe the way it felt like someone... some _thing_ was staring at him again. The same Fae someone who he'd felt watching him for a while now, only now that attention was even sharper.

That had to be it. There wasn't anything else it could be.

Probably.

He had a sinking feeling that soon he was going to miss days when his friends hating him was the worst thing he had to deal with.

~.~.~

Jackson _fucking_ Whittemore was still in his kitchen when he finally made his way downstairs. He would have tried to throw the asshole out or at least seriously questioned his motives... but Peter had already signaled his approval of the other teenager's presence.

Probably because of the way Jackson had Chris under constant surveillance with a pretty fucking impressive scowl on his face. The Hunter actually looked a little rough around the edges, like maybe the youngest werewolf in the Stilinski house had shoved him into the seat he was sitting in. Jackson had probably also been the one to relieve Chris of his gun and put it on the counter farthest away from the table, which meant the Hunter was cooperating. Didn't matter what kind of badass he may or may not have turned into in his time away, Stiles was sure that Chris could have come out on top of that struggle if he'd wanted to.

Though judging by the brand new (but suspiciously well-healed) tattoo on his neck the man might be in the middle of his mid-life crisis, so. Maybe none of the usual rules applied.

Whatever was going on with Chris aside, Peter had clapped an approving hand on Jackson's shoulder and then _the back of his neck_. Not in a 'I will fucking _break you_ ' way, but in a fond way. In a way that nearly meant 'you're as good as pack'.

Fuck, his life just kept getting weirder. He was kind of ready for this particular ride to stop.

Still.

Heaving a sigh, he plopped himself down across the table from Chris. He couldn't help but notice the lines of stress on the man's face and the way his eyes looked kind of bloodshot. There was a slump of defeat in his shoulders and honestly he sort of looked like someone off to face his execution. As much as there was a cold ball of fury in his chest on Derek's behalf he still didn't really like seeing Chris that way.

"I would like an explanation."

He was pretty fucking proud of the way his voice came out even and without a hint of emotion. His fingers were even still, and that twisting feeling of self-loathing that so often left him nauseous and unable to eat was nowhere to be found. Despite everything, he felt more like himself than he had in _months_.

Sourwolf needed someone strong to stand up for him and fuck if Stiles wasn't going to give him exactly that.

"I didn't mean to... I should have waited." Chris said after a long period of silence. "I thought it would be better without everyone crowding him. I'd apologize to him in person for that, but I'm guessing one of you is going to need to relay the message."

"Maybe. And that's all great to know but not what I was asking. So come on - what the fuck Chris?"

"He's my father, Stiles."

"Also a raging psychopath, but hey. Family. I almost get it. Except there was a funeral - Allison told us about it and I pretended to give a shit about the dead guy who beat me up - in _your_ basement, by the way - and tried to kill us all for months. Scott was actually a little broken up over it I think, mostly because he thought he was the reason the guy was dead, you know? With that whole forcing Derek to give him the bite after he poisoned the guy thing I didn't blame him for feeling responsible. And yeah, he seemed to get over it pretty quick but I figured that was because he was pining and sad-eyed over her, not because the guy _wasn't actually dead_."

Chris had flinched back from the accusation in his words and by the end looked older and more tired than he had since... since. He refused to give into that twinge of guilty sympathy tugging at his heart. Even if Derek had come out from under the covers he was still curled up in a ball in his bed, and he couldn't just let that go.

"He was never supposed to know. She told him during that mess with the Alpha Pack."

Later he could think about why Scott had never told him, could poke and prod at all the ways that hurt. Even worse, he could worry at the ways it just felt so damn expected. The days when his 'brother' told him everything, let alone anything, were long gone.

"Were you ever going to tell us?"

"Not back then. I've been thinking about it since I came back though." That was... better than he'd been expecting, honestly. "There were just a few things I had to take care of first."

"Yeah, I'm sure getting a tattoo was a real crucial first step."

Suddenly a plate thumped down between them, one that had _two_ expertly crafted sandwiches on it, and he followed Peter's retracting hand to stare up at his face in disbelief. His wolf had been ready to rip Chris' head off only ten minutes ago, but there was totally turkey instead of ham on one of the sandwiches. He was feeding the Hunter he'd been threatening to kill, and it was just blowing his freaking mind a little bit.

"Never thought I would see you with one of those, Christopher. I must say - I like the look."

"What?"

"I didn't get it for you."

"I'm well aware. Still - you did get it. Shows an admirable amount of dedication on your part. Now I probably won't have to kill you, though it will be interesting to see if someone does it for me."

"I don't think there will be any immediate attempts. Sorry if you find that disappointing."

"Is anyone going to let me in on the big secret? What am I, chopped liver?" Peter's answering chuckle did not amuse, though he did kind of like the way his wolf bent to briefly nuzzle at his temple. It calmed some of the outrage at being kept out of the loop, reminded him that Peter would absolutely fill him in once he was done bantering with Chris... who was already eating the sandwich he'd been offered. "Jackson showing up made more sense than this."

"Shut up and eat, Stilinski."

"Okay, just because I was too surprised at lunch to tell you to fuck off does _not_ mean you are now President of the 'Make Stiles Eat' club. And anyway, why are you even still here?" Jackson's only answer was an eye roll he was almost proud of and then a pointed look at the plate. And yeah, maybe he grabbed it but it had nothing to do with making the asshole happy, oh no. Nope, he was eating it exclusively because he was hungry and Peter had made it for him. He didn't like the considering look in his wolf's eyes as he appraised Jackson again at all though.

"Strictly speaking I didn't need to get the tattoo first, but it was important Stiles."

"So the tattoo means... what exactly?"

"Mostly that he's a dead man walking for the Hunter community."

"Thanks for your help Peter."

"Well I do so enjoy offering my assistance."

"I would like the bantering to come to a screeching halt right the hell now because _what_?"

Eating while Chris explained exactly what he'd done was impossible, so he dropped the sandwich back to the plate almost as soon as the man started talking. Maybe he was supposed to find it noble or something, the way Chris had thrown it all away for their pack. For his dad. It was probably supposed to be romantic and sweet, a grand gesture that laid his heart on the line or some shit. All he could think about though was that now Chris was marked with a big ass target right on his fucking neck. The next time Hunters came around his dad's boyfriend was going to be a priority target right alongside his own... not-boyfriend. Chris had chosen to put himself directly in harm's way, and it wasn't one goddamn bit romantic.

It _was_ melodramatic, angsty bullshit that Chris should be way too old for. It was selfish and irresponsible and almost enough to make him want to kill the man himself again. What were they supposed to do if someone took the man up on the offer? If Chris died what was his dad supposed to do? What was _he_ supposed to do?

They'd bonded over ugly calendars for fuck's sake. The man had a doctor's appointment and a trip he'd be taking for work written on the one on the fridge- in ink! - and his birthday circled. He wasn't allowed to just... just throw it all away for some messed up sense of honor or obligation or whatever.

"You..." he paused, took a breath and shook off the hand Peter settled on his shoulder. His wolf was giving this stunt two-thumbs up, after all, and if he thought that kind of shit was going to fly he had another thing coming. "You are such a _moron_. Why? Why would you do this? We all know you're not a Hunter anymore, Chris, or at least not the kind we have to worry about."

"I didn't know that."

"Jackson, so help me I will put your ass in time-out right next to his."

"... time-out?"

"Yeah, Peter, time-out enforced by everyone in this pack who is not currently acting like a self-sacrificing idiot. That trip for work? Cancelled because who the fuck knows if there'll be any Hunters in that city or on the road. Dad's going to have to do a background check on your doctor too, and you know what? I'm not sure you're responsible enough to leave the house on your own."

"Stiles."

"Wow Stilinski. I didn't know you were such an overprotective mother. Hey, if you're gonna try to give me a curfew--"

"Shut _up_ , Jackass. And don't give me that look, Peter - actions have consequences and when my dad--"

"So when your father hears about this--"

"Peter? Bite him." The jerk deserved it, even if part of him was delighted by the fact that Jackson might secretly be kind of nerdy.

"I don't know... I think I might like him."

Stiles glared at both werewolves but figured it was pretty much a lost cause. They were wearing nearly identical smirks, he'd eaten when Jackson asked, and the other teen had done his best to protect their interests when it came to Chris despite not knowing much about the situation. Peter was clearly not going to be any help with the Whittemore situation, not unless Jackson started up a new campaign to bully Stiles.

Since he was no longer perving on the guy's girlfriend he figured that probably wasn't going to happen.

"I'll deal with the two of you later. Chris--"

"I know you called it time-out, but I think the more accurate phrase would be 'grounded'." Chris sounded both wry and tired, but not like he was going to fight him on this. That gave him a little pause, but no - the rules still stood. "I can't stay inside forever Stiles. Do you have a release date in mind, or is that pending good behavior?"

"Yeah everyone thinks this is real funny until you walk outside and get shot in the head." His voice cracked on the last word which was fucking embarrassing, but at least it got the two shifters to stop smiling. Chris stood quickly and wrapped him up in a hug that he wasn't ready for but kind of needed anyway, so he returned it pretty quick. "And oh boy are you not off the hook when it comes to your dad," he muttered in the man's shoulder.

"I know."

"And that was a shitty thing to do to Derek."

"I know."

"And you don't get to just... just decide things that end up with you as a giant target."

"Alright."

"I'm really mad at you."

"Understandable."

"My dad is going to flip over that tattoo. Keep him from licking it in front of the rest of us, will you?" That startled a laugh out of Chris, and he didn't quite know how he felt about that. On the one hand, Chris was pack and nearly family, so he was inclined to forgive him. On the other hand was Derek, the injured party who was also family. Gerard had done so much damage on his own, and through Kate his influence had been catastrophic. It was also hard not to remember that while he'd been beaten black and blue by an old man, Chris and Allison had been upstairs playing happy Hunting family.

Fuck, that didn't even take into consideration what had happened to Boyd and Erica.

And Jackson.

"I have to do something about him, Chris."

"... I know. Just... I don't want to know, okay kid?" The man pulled back enough to give him one of those tired, worn smiles of his. "Whatever happens, I don't want to know. I'm not a part of that family anymore, and--"

"You don't want to know." Seemed a little like ducking out of taking responsibility, but whatever. Chris wasn't accountable to him, not really, and he was doing this for Derek and Peter. For Boyd and Erica and... and fuck, even Jackson. "So you won't know. And you will be apologizing to Derek yourself just as soon as he, you know, comes out of his room. Which might take a while. Might be never, actually. I may need your help installing a dumbwaiter later."

"I'll get my tools ready."

Before he could answer the front door slammed open and shut, and then Kira ran into the kitchen. She looked confused and maybe a little angry, cell phone clutched in her hand.

"Kira - had to go home ASAP. Everything is not okay but under control. Really Stiles? Really? You left without saying anything--"

"In my defense I couldn't find you--"

"And instead of sending me a message right away you sent me _that_ ten minutes ago? Really?"

"Well it's true!"

"You--" she stopped herself with a deep breath which was nice because the lights stopped flickering at the same time. She was pissed and Stiles could understand that. Hell, Jackson knew more about what had happened than she did. That couldn't be a good feeling - it was always a sucky one for him when something like that happened with Scott. "Is everything still under control?"

"Um. Yes?" Her eyes narrowed and he threw his hands up, because what more did she want? "I mean Chris has a new tattoo and he's grounded so he doesn't get killed, Jackson is apparently one of us now because why not, Peter is no help with that because--"

"He got Stiles to eat his lunch!" she reported with a sudden, swift smile. Fuck, now he was never going to be able to get rid of the ass.

"Derek's curled up in bed and I don't know when he'll be back down, but yeah. Yes. Everything is under control because hey - no blood! We're doing great." In the face of her worried expression he folded like a cheap suit and quickly brought her up to speed... though he kept out the bit where he was going to be plotting a murder soon. He and Peter could handle that alone. No need to make his foxy lady bear that burden.

"That's awful," she whispered when he finished, face pale and one hand covering her mouth. "And Derek's still up there?"

"Yeah. Seemed to want some alone time and I had to question Chris, so. Yeah. I'm hoping he comes down soon."

Kira stood and thought about that for a long moment, then nodded to herself like she'd reached some grand decision. And apparently she had, because she moved with purpose to raid the cupboards, pulling down a lot of things that might be used to... bake something? That was cocoa powder and sugar, some mint chocolate chips... was she gonna try to make cookies? That was a bad idea - she couldn't bake, not without Peter babying her through every step, and... and she was getting out a saucepan like the poor, baking challenged lamb that she was.

"My mom always makes tea when I'm upset," she commented out of nowhere, maybe realizing how confused he was. Hell, the other three men looked just as bemused as he felt. "It's kind of gross, actually - it's a traditional blend from Japan, she says. It's meant to calm you down and be all relaxing. Mostly it just makes my teeth hurt. My dad's been sneaking me hot chocolate afterwards since I was a kid... I always thought that helped more. It's not even hard to make."

That was... fuck, he wanted to 'awwww' at her because she was so damn precious. She wanted to help Derek feel better because she cared about the big guy an awful lot. A nearly suspicious amount, but he was staying the hell out of that - it wasn't any of his business, really. He stayed quiet as he watched her work her magic, the rich smell of chocolate soon filling the kitchen quickly followed by the scent of peppermint. She knew their sourwolf pretty damn well, and he thought that maybe - just maybe - she'd be able to coax Derek back to the rest of them.

She made enough for everyone else to have a mug too, which was pretty fucking awesome.

"So what's her deal?" Jackson asked, watching as she went up the stairs armed with two steaming mugs. The ex-lizard had a lot of nerve asking that since he was quite happily sipping at his own offering, but whatever.

"She is a precious cinnamon roll who is too pure and too good for this world, and if you fuck with her I will be forced to kill you."

"As would I, which would be a shame. I really do almost like you already."

"I forbid you two from talking."

"I promise I won't like him better than you, sweetheart," Peter rumbled in his ear as one arm slid around his waist - the other was busy keeping his hot cocoa secure, which was totally fair. It was good shit. Sighing quietly he let himself lean back against his wolf, the events of the day tumbling in his head. Peter 'hmmm'd and nuzzled at his temple again, which was... nice. Really great. It was part of what he loved about coming home - the open affection his wolf lavished on him was just the fucking best.

Jackson and his shit-eating grin could fuck right off back to London.

Things were getting complicated again. Things always seemed complicated in Beacon Hills when they weren't swamped with flat-out crazy bullshit. Gerard was alive and a possible threat to what was _his_ , so he had the murder of an old man to plot out. Chris was dabbling awful close to the realm of suicidal ideation in his opinion and that had to be nipped in the bud, and with that fucking tattoo on display like that they were all going to be lucky if his dad didn't jump the guy's bones in front of all of them. Lydia was going to be on his case for leaving with Jackson, he was sure of it - figured that when they finally spoke again she would be pissed with him. The cause of that fury was another complicated thing, because he was getting the awful, sneaking suspicion that Jackson fucking Whittemore might be in their pack... or that he at least wanted to be.

And there was still the weight of those unseen eyes laying heavy on his soul. He didn't know what they wanted, but he was pretty sure it couldn't be anything good.

God, his _life_.

"Stiles, calm down and drink your hot chocolate - then we can go have a snuggle before we check on Derek again."

"... yeah. Yeah okay."

What the hell. He'd figure it all out later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been suuuuper sick with a bad cold that turned into a sinus infection, and this is the first day I've felt good enough to write in almost two weeks. ;.; This was the chapter I had closest to finished so I started with it. I am well aware that it is very self-indulgent and that maybe Derek's hiding feels a little OOC, but like... the guy has to have a breaking point, and I figure he was fighting his instinct to run and so gave into what he used to do as a little kid, which was hiding instead.
> 
> I'll add Jackson to the character tags in a couple days. XD


End file.
